A river sat on a mound
and played a harp
Crying ears,
Glitter Eggs;
Gól too him
In galgvíði
a beautiful red cock,
Fjalarr is called.
Gól too ásum
Gullinkambi,
so vekr höl a
at Herjaförs;
but another gelr
for the ground below
a sweet cock
at the suns of Heljar.< br/>Gyr now Garmr mjók
for Gnipahelli,
faster will wear out,
but more will slide;
now I know how,
forward I see further
rainy smoke
room of sieves.
Brothers will beat
and prayers will be answered,< br/>sisters will
spoil us;
the world is hard,
much uproar,
beards, bald heads,
parties are divided,
Wind age, war age,
This world is a steeple;
no one will
others.
Play MÃms sons,
but a narrow sex disk
at inu galla
Gjallarhorni;
hot blow of Heimdallr,
a horn is in the air,
mæir the song
with MÃms höfuð.
Skelfr Yggdrasil
screams standing,
amr the old tree,
but the jótunn is released;
everyone is afraid
to hell
The river is sour
soap is too absorbing.
What's wrong with it ¡some?
What's wrong with the elves?
All the Jötunheimr is roaring,
It's quiet,
dwarves groan
for stones,
veggberg vásir.
Do you still know - or what?
Garmr now makes a little
for Gnipahelli,
faster will wear out
but freki renna;
past I know the snow,
further I see
through rain and smoke
the space of sieves.

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