Tears Will Wash Off the Blood From My Sword

The wind blended the smoke of fires with the breath of the swamp
The deadly embrace grips us in its iron claws
No way out, but we will face the death
The sword or bog is better then the enemy's scaffold
Yes, we entreated, but gods did not heed our prayers
The hatred tightens round your neck harder than the noose
The crusaders stamp across our native lands
The Steel craves for the battlefield
Our hands shake with trepidation yet resolved to fight

We know we cannot save our land
We know that today we will join our ancestors
No grumble, we are not appealing to gods anymore
Our earthly paths seem to be gone through
The enemies' camps are promising loss with their fires
The blood is getting cold in veins from the enemies horses' neighing
Close is the moment…