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A peaceful grove, |
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In treetops above the whisper of the wind |
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It echoes over fields, over endless wilderness |
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You close your eyes and there you are |
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Among your ancestors |
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They greet you, |
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Welcomed to enter the war |
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For freedom of their heirs |
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Over the vasted fields, bearing the strongest shields |
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Our fathers rode |
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Through the thickest brakes, |
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Armed with the sharpest stakes |
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To none they bowed |
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The Northern blow cuts through your skin |
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As swells beat your vessel |
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The open sea surrounding seems dark and cold |
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You wonder why men around |
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You sit quiet for themselves |
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Staring into the darkness... |
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They know what awaits them there |
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It is victory, or death |
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The calm Baltic Sea |
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Reflects the first morning sunbeams |
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A rosy-fingered dawn over the seas, |
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An illusion of peace |
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Straight ahead a palisade steep |
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The time has come, "Hit the beach!" |
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Over the vasted fields, bearing the strongest shields |
|
Our fathers rode |
|
Through the thickest brakes, |
|
Armed with the sharpest stakes |
|
To none they bowed |
|
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 welcome to enter the war |
|
For the freedom of their heirs |
|
At last, the moment you've been waiting for |
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Now it's time to fight or fall |
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The enemy line getting closer and closer |
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You distinguish his eye-whites |
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And pull your sword..."Strike!" |
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You see your blade cut off his head |
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Another father ends up dead |
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No time to think who will miss him at nights |
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Another slash and someone's husband dies |
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See the fear in their eyes |
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"Their lines are scattered, hunt them down!" |
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None were left alive to tell their wives |
