En isande vind far fram genom skog och dalars hem Fryser ben och märg Krossar drömmar, rövar dem.
Sov nu, lilla vännen min Dröm ett litet sinnes drömmar Vid elden stillhet råder Här ditt folk vakar över dig.
Men i forna seders mull gror livets frö igen...
Hör nu vargen yla, kallar på sin sort Inget svar i vinden ges Hans släkte nu fördrivits bort.
Livets tråd nu tvinnas Må din väv bli seg och stark Ty hårda tider stundar Livets rötter kämpar i frusen mark.
Men i forna seders mull gror livets frö igen... ------------------------------------------------------ An ice cold wind Blows through forests and home of valleys Freezes bone and marrow Crushes dreams, robs them.
Sleep now, my little friend Dream the dreams of a small mind It is quiet by the fire Your people watch over you.
But in the soil of old customs the seed of life grows again...
Now hear the wolf howl calling its kind There is no answer in the wind His kin now driven away.
The thread of life is twined May your weave be tough and strong For hard times await The roots of life struggle in frozen ground.
But in the soil of old customs the seed of life grows again...