Turisas

A peaceful grove,
in treetops above the whisper of the wind
It echoes over fields, over endless wilderness
You close your eyes and there you are
among your ancestors
They greet you,
welcomed to enter the war
for freedom of their heirs
Over the vasted fields, bearing the strongest shields
Our fathers rode
Through the thickest brakes,
armed with the sharpest stakes
To none they bowed
The Northern blow cuts through your skin
As swells beat your vessel
The open sea surrounding seems dark and cold
You wonder why men around
you sit quiet for themselves
Staring into the darkness...
They know what awaits them there
It is victory, or death
The calm Baltic Sea
reflects the first morning sunbeams
A rosy-fingered dawn over the seas,
an illusion of peace
Straight ahead a palisade steep
The time has come, "Hit the beach!"