Awating the battle ravens

I remember
When the horns of war ralled the brave to battle
I remember
The times when honor ruled our souls and loyalty was the only law
The young men looked for the secret of steel
By the paths of war
Riding towards the foreign lands searching for the spoils of war
With the banners fluttering with the wind
And the symbols of our clan.

The glory dreamed came through battle and our legends were told
By the minstrels at the light of the bonfires
As with the horns full of wine
The warriors rest
Listening to the heroes' deeds.

I remember
When the druids hailed the sun for the solstice dawn
And how in Beltaine's Night the old wicker man burned
As same as every year in the forests and cliffs...
Honouring the Pagan Gods of my Race.

Time has passed and now I await, old and wounded, the call of Neton
Black ravens fly across the sky with the vultures,
they come to take my soul
With the sword in my hand I say goodbye to this land
Land of my parents and forefathers
With pride I watch the forests and plains of Iberia,
where I lived and died.

From the sky I now see my lifeless body
I see through the eyes of the Battleraven,
Messenger of the Gods of the warriors,
Who guides me towards his hall in the high of the sky
Towards the home of the braves...
Where rest the warriors of my folk.
HAIL IBERIA