Saapui hän keskelle hävityksen
kylään ammoin niin rauhaisaan.
Katot hehkuivat väreissä liekkien
ja veri rakkaiden peitti maan.
Vihan nostatti ja kiiri taivaisiin.
Niin moni lieni jo tiellä tuonelaan
vaan he viel' ei veisi häntä mukanaan.
Vaik' joukkonsa hän kokosi liki lyödyistä,
yksin raivonsa vavahdutti julmaa vastusta.
Kai satakunta ruumista hän polki allensa,
armoa ken sai kohtas' vain kirveen kaulalla.
"Kilpien taa piiloutukaa,
pelkurit jo perääntykää!
Ohitsemme jos mielitte
viimeinenkin hautaan saattakaa!"
Harvatpa kertomaan säästyivät,
siksi veri yltyi virtaamaan.
Niin vain aika koitti myös sankarin
kirjailtu miekka kourassaan
(vaan mies taipumaton veljet rinnallaan
tarustoissa elää ainiaan).
[English translation:]
[WARRIOR'S GRAVE]
Amongst such ravage he arrived,
to a village once so calm.
Rooftops glowing the colours of flame
and the blood of the beloved on the ground.
Such anger did it raise to echo through all skies.
To beyond so many may have travelled
but not yet they were to take him along.
'though gathering his forces from those nearly defeated,
alone it was his rage that shook the cruel enemy.
Hundreds of corpses he trampled underfoot,
his axe on their necks as a display of mercy.
"Blades of your swords shall be set free,
iron so cold shall now redden!
Grant them a glimpse of your hatred,
drown them into the streams of gore!"
"Behind your shields you shall now hide,
all you cowards better flee!
Should you past us desire to walk,
our last man standing you must strike to the ground!"
Very few were spared to tell this story,
so immensely the blood took to flowing.
And so the time of the warrior did come
with an embroided blade in its hand
(but a man unyielding with his brothers by his side
as a legend he lives forever).