Awating The Battle Ravens

I remember

When the horns of war ralled the brave to battle

I remember

The times when honor ruled our souls and loyalty was the only law

The young men looked for the secret of steel

By the paths of war

Riding towards the foreign lands searching for the spoils of war

With the banners fluttering with the wind

And the symbols of our clan.

The glory dreamed came through battle and our legends were told

By the minstrels at the light of the bonfires

As with the horns full of wine

The warriors rest

Listening to the heroes' deeds.

I remember

When the druids hailed the sun for the solstice dawn

And how in Beltaine's Night the old wicker man burned

As same as every year in the forests and cliffs...

Honouring the Pagan Gods of my Race.

Time has passed and now I await, old and wounded, the call of Neton

Black ravens fly across the sky with the vultures,

they come to take my soul

With the sword in my hand I say goodbye to this land

Land of my parents and forefathers

With pride I watch the forests and plains of Iberia,

where I lived and died.

From the sky I now see my lifeless body

I see through the eyes of the Battleraven,

Messenger of the Gods of the warriors,

Who guides me towards his hall in the high of the sky

Towards the home of the braves...

Where rest the warriors of my folk.

HAIL IBERIA