Ansuzgardaraiwo Sözleri

Voices from the spirit world can be heard through the dark

winternights, the heartbeats of the spirit. It is the holy twelve

days of Yule. Dark shapes can be seen in the sky; riders of

death. They suddenly charge down from the clouds in wonderful

wilderness; kings and chieftains, thieves and murderers - all in

the same phalanx, drifting mysteriously through the air on spirit

horses, arriving when least expected. Black shields, furs from

bear and wolf, shining blades, open wounds and ropes still tied

around their necks; they are Wuotan's pack of warges, the undead

and the dead - the immortal warriors of Ansuzgarda! The

werewolves haunt the sacred twelve days of Yule in packs, looking

after the living; hail the sacred traditions, hail the spirits of

the dead, hail the holy ritual of Wuotan, or face the wrath of

the Ansuz and the hooves of Sleipnir. Face the Ansuzgardaraiwo!