I remember a time
When ancients
Could be summoned
Some were harmless
Some silent, some deadly
Fallen gods
Oh! Native Land
Oh! Swamps
And mosses
FlY!
On the wings
Of whirlwind
There flies our wail!
As the northern sea
And its cold waves
Called our names as in mourning
As we gather under dark skies
Where freedom dwells
There flies our wail!
