Текст и слова песни Isenburg – Hymn To The Son
Lying on a ground full of entrails,
Knowing it's the last chance to feel your sword,
Fighting hard and bleeding for your homeland.
No-one will say that your blood was spilled in vain.
They will sing a hymn to your glory,
Carry your remains on defended ground.
Blades will guide your march to your fathers.
We stand here sending you a last resounding Hail!
I cross the sea and all my doubts vanish,
The hails behind fade to shades.
The eternal hall of my ancestors
Opens the doors and welcomes the son.
Knowing it's the last chance to feel your sword,
Fighting hard and bleeding for your homeland.
No-one will say that your blood was spilled in vain.
They will sing a hymn to your glory,
Carry your remains on defended ground.
Blades will guide your march to your fathers.
We stand here sending you a last resounding Hail!
I cross the sea and all my doubts vanish,
The hails behind fade to shades.
The eternal hall of my ancestors
Opens the doors and welcomes the son.
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