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.