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This is the tale of the dormant Finland
About its people and its luck of the draw
This is the tale of the conquering Russia
And its victorious dead that never returned
The Reds began their crushing crusade
Towards the land where Väinämöinen once lived
The land of snowy plains and endless nights
Of a thousand lakes and seven hundred years of enslavement...
Slumber, chains and bloodstained
Swords, steels that clashed in the deafening silence
The burning rain fell down on the resistance
How to endure the weight of the world?
This was another kind of war in two fronts
There's the human foe and the ruthless cold
And so this land took the form of a big pool
Where pride got steeped as many lives were lost
Who were the heroes, who were the bad guys?
Where was now the place they used to call home?
Total silence, tearful... mournful...
Stillness, not even a sound in the blood-red battlefield
Over this snow
Snow that once was white
Lie the heroes
The heroes from both sides
The red covers all
All we have ever known
Such a grim sight
A sight so hard to describe
Blood-red snow.
And so this tragic tale came to an end
When peace was signed once blood had been spilled
Who did survive? Who did win?
If both of their banners were red in the end?
The Finns gave up their sacrosanct land
The Russians got what they had yearned for so long
But in the end, what did they all get for themselves?
Nothing but a handful of snow
Bloodstained, cold and fragile
Snow, the very same snow that covered their bones
HATA BİLDİR
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