My sketch of the begun work
I'll ask of the berserks, you tasters of blood,
Those intrepid heroes, how are they treated,
Those who wade out into battle?
Wolf-skinned they are called. In battle
They bear bloody shields.
Red with blood are their spears when they come to fight.
They form a closed group.
The prince in his wisdom puts trust in such men
Who hack through enemy shields
Wolves from chains are broken, feel a war smell. Berserkers aspire in fight, see the full moon... The crude earth on fire... My way will be glorified! Fire, come to me! I want to inhale your power! Wolves howl and ravens scream... The flame burns out hated enemies. Bloody drops on lips... fight will come soon...