We look like beggars, our once so grand uniforms has turned to rags
The frost-nipped cliffs are staring like eyes,
Like dogs we are climbing up the moon
As we are marching on
Blinding our destine
The martial spirit is all dead and gone
Like dogs we are climbing up the moon
We look like beggars, our once so grand uniforms has turned to rags
The frost-nipped cliffs are staring like eyes,
Like dogs we are climbing up the moon
Congelation, intersection, disease, ignominy
Men eternally sleeping under blankets of ice are bronzed by death
In the mist of death, we scream our war-cries
Let the thunderstorms of the northern wind roar
Through the lightning on me, make me ascend like a pillar of fire in the night
As we are marching on
Blinding our destine
The martial spirit is all dead and gone
Like dogs we are climbing up the moon
