Armed armies march towards the battlenThe warriors of Wotan, not knowing good grace,nPain nor mercy for enemiesnThe enemies of Wotan are their enemies as wellnSmall villages surrounded by forest stand a flamednScreaming and crying is all that is heardnThe oppressive smoke climbs to high peeksnAnd it covers the bodies of the murderednIn response to the barbaric attacknThey fought bravely, but they were defeatednThey couldn't defeat the HatrednThat came from the Northern woodsnMuch blood was split and many hearts were piercednThe fire absorbed and obliterated the traces of the crimesnAnd the wind scattered the ashesnThe warriors of Wotan left as fast as they camenNo one knows were they came fornAnd to were they headed off tonThe only things that remained were the bodies of the deadnAnd the burnings upon the groundnNow nobody know if they fought another battlenOr if they engulfed into a dark forestnNobody knows the paths that the Wolves of Wotan walk uponnThe Gods of war incline to themnAnd Wotan himself gives them his strengthnNo one dares to go after themnNobody dares to go against Wotan's willnSpilled Christian blood will never be avenged