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The ground trembles with the horses' hooves, hooves dance
over the frost-bitten moor so white, in the early days
King Sigurd from the land of the Swedes, angry rider
Alvsol the beautiful his intended bride, he is denied
In pains he is tormented by shame
Her brothers the blades will strike, young men defend
But Sigurd the lustful he kills them both, with a wounded bosom
Bloody he staggers and seeks his claim, Alvsol frets
Never does she embrace that king so cruel, she swallows
A marriage with tears on the cheek and mourning
Sigurd he fights for love
When the victory is won he gets the bride
Sigurd calls
Alvsol she suffers, she wanders feebly towards Freja's halls there
She dies peacefully
Sigurd finds black in vision the vein Alvsol rest
In death its joy he sniffed the moose forest that was dreamed of velse and the blood ran
Sigurd he collects the corpses of the fallen, fallen fighters
For them aboard his most beautiful ship, torches lit
On the ship he rises with Alvsol his bride, the fire roars
Beyond the sea he looks in smoke, the desert has left him in death
Sigurd he fights for love
When the victory is won, he gets the bride
Sigurd calls