Cold Primitive Land

Ascending from the Meridional root

The Chilles emerge from the trails

Where the lava burns with the ice

Permeating the earth from its end

Frozen lie their secrets

In minerals its magic sprouts

The spirit of the earth burns on altars

Where the winds come from beyond the world

Woe to those who profane our minerals!

Woe to those who steals our waters!

The revenge of the primitive spirit is greater than the existence of its northern civilizations

No soul escapes the wrath that erupts from the burning of our lands.