Текст песни Бард - Завесельная

The wind will drag us to the saga - the old gray-haired
And the sail will pull over the foam wave.
And we leave our shores
To argue for gold on the lands of the enemy.
The sky is wide, but the earth is a strip.
A few words, yes salt on the lips.

Again we laid our souls
Again, someone's sail looms in the distance.
And our dragrakars will again take the battle -
Blades will whistle over lead water!
Cold steel, but strength in the chest.
One call, but death is ahead.

Our prey was taken, our drakkar donkey,
But this is not the goal, only the fun of the midst.
Now direct your sails
To Celtic Ireland, lay down on the oars!
The sea surface, but a gray wave.
Measured blow, yes power in the hands.

Kneeling the whole damned world
In the lands of the Irish only fear is lord.
We leave confidently on the shores,
With contempt we look at the backs of the enemy.
Signal to attack - shields are closed in a row.
Tense nerves and arrows fly.

The fourth day the siege is on,
Our jarl guides the squad forward.
The Varangians on corpses entered that fortress
And many warriors of Valhalla found.
Cold steel, but strength in the chest.
One call, but death is ahead.

From the long hikes we will return home
In the villages of relatives, sweet winter peace.
But another spring will come,
How hands touch a sword and oars.
The sky is wide, but the earth is a strip.
A few words, but salt on the lips.