Call of the wintermoon

Buried beneath the mountains of frost,
years of silent sorrow dream and dark.
My winterwings of evil sleep in eternal nights.

In deaths, cold crypts of snow,
the moon chimed my return.
With blackstorms I came,
and not with the winds.

The Northern Darkness marches,
through the coldest night.

I can’t resist the taste of these winds of the wintermoon,
and to bath my eyes in its grace.
My eyes in its grace.
Frost and winter return to my eyes.
The call of the wintermoon.

Nocturnal clouds blow freely in the distance.
In the grey mist of deaths horizon,
my winterwings of evil sleeps.

In deaths, cold crypts of snow.
Buried beneath the mountains of frost.
Years of silent grim and dark,
into eternal nights,
hearing the call of the wintermoon.

The Northern Darkness marches,
through the coldest night.
I can’t resist the taste of these winds of the wintermoon.

And bath my eyes in its grace.
Bath my eyes in its grace.
Frost and winter return to my eyes.

The call of the wintermoon.

!!! In the Northern tribes !!!

The moon chimed my return…

…hearing the call of the wintermoon.