Kaimadalthas Nedstigning

Eagle spirit; the magic wand.
Wizard with a key and a mask,
naked and pale, down to the grave,
only dressed in the ashes of our world.

Along the walls; long, sharp spears.
On the benches, armor of steel.
He sneaks in without a sound,
on the ground, ashes from the fire.

I travel to the depths of darkness where all is dead.

Into the dark realm of the mound,
there sit the silent dead.
Must not waver for fear,
but rise to the world's wasteland.

The roof covered with great shields,
helmets, belts, knives, and swords;
over the stone hall's brown mold
a creature, a woman's ghost!

I travel to the depths of darkness where all is dead.

The seidman’s form in the tree outside,
hangs, its head bowed low.
The cow bleeds, hears it moo,
seidman unties his knots.

The seidman gathers the gifts
that the pale dead give him,
from ancient, dark stone graves
he finds the most beautiful things.

I travel to Kelio.
I travel to the depths of darkness where all is dead.

Belt and armor, cakes and clothes,
helmets and heavenly weapons,
runes and verses, dried berries,
the door to the grave is open!

From elves, the weapons forged,
to the bright reborn dead,
them who fought against the wolves
in a world that is now desolate.

I travel to Kelio.
I travel to the depths of darkness where all is dead.