Барда - Сага боевых лошадей
текст песни

On a steeply salted fragile cereal
Sighing deck
We move us with cereals.
Kharaldovs Balovni
Sadelated in a single armor
Shields shackled
We go ahead of the low -deck all
Behind Drakkar Konung

Ah, Konung, you are in the thoughts of your grand
Heaven is more unchanged
Until the sails of a good wind is not subsided
Spit on signs
And those ten thousand poor heads
What are sold in swimming
From Norwegian fords from Scottish hills
Only a staircase to London

But a horse's eye of human
We can't believe in happiness
We do not know on the boards and see in a dream
Black birds over heather
There will be no return from black Dali
Neither on foot nor horse
You will all be detachment of three feet of land
And seven feet kong

You are shore to run by lowering the stirrup
Over the dead, we
Your king will blind from tears
On the pier of Bergen
You think death is afraid - damn it
For the fear of summer, not those
Saxon arrows are not flying in horses
And in those who are on their ridge

Speak, sediment multi -lover Street
On the heather of the summer
We are driven by the Haraldov scalds south
To their feast of the last