Miss; lienee h;n joka

kyl;ns; m;i,

johti vihollisen hy;kk;ykseen?

Miss; lienee h;n joka veljens; verta

jalkojensa juureen vuodatti?



Kuka lienee h;n vailla rohkeutta,

muinoin mieli soturin?

Kuka lieneek;;n vailla kunniaa,

katkeruuden liekin polttama?



H;nk; kuullut ei teurastettavia,

omaa heikkouttaan kirosi?

H;nk; palkan teoistansa sai,

rikkauden taakan kera pakeni?



Taival petturin synk;n taivaan alla,

luolat susien eiv;t suojaa anna.

Pako ikuinen, et muuta n;hd; saata,

taival petturin niin lohduton.



Ja tied;t, silm;t nuo tarkkailevat askeleita h;t;isten,

on maa aina n;lk;isempi mit; v;hemm;n se saalistaa.

Niin helppoa on upottaa matkaaja ja raskas lasti

kun ote hellitt;m;t;n jo etsii hautapaikkaa.



[English translation:]



[FIELD OF THE DEVIL]



Where might be the one who sold his village,

lead the enemy for a strike?

Where might be the one who by his feet

shed the blood of his own brother?



Who might be the one with no courage,

once with heart of a warrior?

Who might he be with no honour,

burnt by the flame of embitterment?



Did he not hear those to be slaughtered,

cursing his own weakness?

Did he receive a pay for his deeds,

ran away with the burden of wealth?



The way of a traitor underneath the darkest sky,

caves of the wolves offer no shelter.

A flight through forever, nothing else you see,

the way of a traitor so desperate.



And know that those eyes are watching every hasty step,

the less the ground is hunting the hungrier it grows.

So easy it is to drown a roamer and a heavy load

at the expense of a firm grasp seeking a burial place.