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The path of Hel,
realm of death and obscurity,
frozen land,
deep in the mystery
the terrifying voice of an infernal being
who sings amid rustling leaves.

Satan is in them, captured by the wail of the forests.

Queen of Hel,
from couch of death
hear to your warriors.
The sunset of the corpses reflects on your face.

Your whiteness expresses the silence of the gold bridge,
shade of the betrayal, of the slaughter, of the disease.

The tortuous road of failed glory,
to the deep cave of Garmr.
Bloodstains drips from his breast,
mirroring the ferocity on the blades of the swords.

Feet on the ground, swords and axes in hand,
cold is intense, the tension is high, and
hear only the voice of the wind
sings macabre litanies...

...screams of hundreds warriors,
is heard between the mountains,
a real infernal cemetery.

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