.Othala
Das Rad des Lichtes ist längst versunken
Seine Finger so farbig verglüht
Das Rauschen der Haine, der Bäche, des Windes
Singt wispernd die Melodie dieser Nacht
Othala
Wir wachen um die Feuer Midgards
Wie nennt ihr Euch, daà ihr ertränkt
Was wir neu bew.
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