Wail of the North
MARKUS VANHALA, NIILO SEVAENEN
Under these cold northern stars
Songs are filled with sorrow
Brief is the time of summer winds
Moon is sad as the night
Here the callous frost slowly
Crawls inside the hearts
Here the winter's breeze will
Break the purest soul
Grown on this rimed soil
We've learnt to rue and yearn
Grown in these bleak woods‚ we've
Learnt to forsake our dreams
And again (And again)
The mourning unfolds before me
Like an open black grave
(Like an open black grave)