Soft whites in a steady cascade,
Of flakes, og perler or fragile hoar frost and rime
Of gentle sounds and dampened footsteps…
I come, born from arctic blood
Of Mo i Rana and fjørds cut deep.
Blue eyes flecked in silver and storm
As still as waters fractured with ice
Mine hjerte synger med winter light
Of long dark nights og branden bright
Vi findes vores stemme med hver nyt søvn
Strong and steady and in continuous chorus it rises;
To meet the morning of the first fallen snow.