Поэзия

[Михаэль фон Барток]

I am Cimmerian, son of the North
Born on the battlefield, nursed
by breast of war
A thief and raider, one day a King
my fate is written with
the blood of enemies

Cimmerian! Cimmerian!

I am Cimmerian, fight 'till I
die
for in this world only the strongest can survive
No Gods to trust in or
kneel before
my might the only gift I had from father Crom, ah ah
ah!

Cimmerian! Cimmerian!

Tales one day will sing of the barbarian
king...

I am Cimmerian, free as the wind
Civilization will not chain my
glorious dreams
Come forth ye wicked and meet thy doom!
To your ancestors I
will send you, feeble fools!