Beard of Storm

When the gold Njord lifts his head above grey waves of sea

When Northern cold winds play a horn of a blizzard

Leaving the refuges at the top of the world

When the ice lumps grow on rocks of a fjord

On coast decline branches under caps of snow

When the night knocks at a door of houses

When the Vikings are ready to seize the weapon

In fear before old gods and it seems

That to madness of elements there will be no limit

Then the old men speak about the beard of Njord

To a great beard of storm that flies above the world