mastless is the drakkar of himinbjorg,
for his sails sails are our arms.
for his oars are our hearts.
we sail on the waves of life,
we roam through the maze of our destinies
in the memory of our bloodbrothers,
we carry on dreaming,
and we are still fighting.
blessed are the pagan dreamers
cause they pray to the old gods of our memories.
the land is so green and the trees so strong
as our beliefs should be,
as the depths of the sea.
nature hides the keys of life
and we the colours that make her so sweet.
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