Hilber - Ihsahn

Upon the edge of winter’s chasm

The seeds of evil flowers grow

And a sleeping giant curls below

In fever burning nightmare spasms.

I rest upon this trembling ground

And in my bones they resonate

And thus, alike, we lie in wait

For both of us are nothern bound.

No longer can my heart deny

The seven solitudes across the sky

I know too well the beacon’s flame.

Forever has it been the same

I call upon thee, aquilon

To take my soul and bring me home.