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Hear the whisper of north land
frozen, soulless spirit sleeps
heathen people in the winter
prays mark of gathering.

Autumn winds be gone
will-o-the wisp, blaze of the night.

Mystic land of the autumn winds
shall meet the fate
rivers no longer revive and the trees die away.
Hear the whisper of north land   frozen, soulless spirit sleeps   heathen people in the winter   prays mark of gathering.      Autumn winds be gone   will-o-the wisp, blaze of the night.      Mystic land of the autumn winds    shall meet the fate   rivers no longer revive and the trees die away.