The world of the elder gods is aflame. The smoke of its burning,
Heavy with fumes of carnage, darkens the shuddering skies.
Tortured flesh in ashes to tortured earth is returning.
Baldur the Beautiful, rise!

Rise, for this is thine hour. The mighty who said they had slain thee,
Stretch their stiffening hands to a redly perishing prize.
Thou who has bided thy time in the tomb that could not retain thee,
Baldur the Beautiful, rise!

Spirit of light and freedom, behold thy foundation is ready.
Dust and blood and tears, the glory of empire lies.
Wonderful over the waste, strong as the sun and as steady,
Baldur the Beautiful, rise!