Glide on dark tempest and frighten the skies,
Above blooded lands, lamenting past battle cries!
Valkyrjas of storm; born of thunder.
Warriors of gore; bodies torn asunder!

O’ Blooded maidens; princesses of death,
Descend on these fields with hurried breath!
Pillage strong souls of frenzied conquest.
Gather them now at Odin’s behest!

Herd legions of wraiths behind Valhalla’s cruel gate.
These sleepers of ire; of wars they lay in wait,
For Ragnarök shall roar, so revel in glee.
Delight in this violence, thy mote it be!