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Northern wind flew me over my father’s grave

Taking me from my home with the morning rays

And I said to him: “Father, bless me on my way”

But the silence stayed, the old man only shook his head

Look around you, boy

And all that matters you will find

On our native soil

I’ll save you a stone next to mine

I will wait for you, my son

Where the rural lands surround you

In the warm rays of the sun

In widest sky above you

You will travel far

May the heathen wisdom guide you

Till you find your end

In the rural lands where all things began