Under the barbarian sun, in the hour when darkness comes,
We march onwards, undaunted by evil.
In our hearts, a fire that never dies,
From the depths of winter, we hear the call.

Under the barbarian sun, we march onwards.
Through the blizzard and frost, we will not turn back.
Our souls burn with the heat of fire,
And the fear of winter’s cold is foreign to us.

In the snowy fields, where the wind howls,
In the ancient forests, where spirits sleep,
We search for the path, to find the answer,
Of how to save our world with the power of winter.

But there are those who wish to stop us,
Those who fear the power of the winter cold.
They do not know our strength,
It is a gift from the gods, and we will not lay it down.