Og hvřr iđ enn klettum rćđur ei á vindi vá
Teir hildu um stýrisvřl tá ódnin legđi á
"Legg upp í lotiđ," rópti ein og samdir teir
hála á stýrisvřl, men alt til fánýtis
Leiđin er lřgd, í gróti er hřgd,
og eru vit nřgd tá sřgnin er sřgd
Og skriđur tín knřrrur fram tađ sama hvat tú vil
Teir bardust um stýrisvřl men einki róđur til
Og enn vit halda stýrisvřl eins og vit
halda vit eru frćls, trćlborin óspurd so
Fjakka vit řll um kirkjugarđsvřll
í oyđini hřll, um fjarbláu fjřll
Tiltuskađ av landnyrđings ódn, og vindurin
leikar í Miđgarđi mól
Til Ásgarđs har Askurin stóđ, sum trćđrirnir
lívsins í lotinum har blaktrađu tá
Fjakka vit řll um kirkjugarđsvřll
í oyđini hřll, um fjarbláu fjřll
og flřtur, vitandi hvat mál vit megna livandi
Og feigdin dregur liđandi, vit vála henni
Tigandi á ting
Fjakka vit řll um kirkjugarđsvřll
í oyđini hřll, um fjarbláu fjřll
Vćl vitandi langnunnar leiđ, men gott er
tađ treystiđ at val er í vón
Óteljandi leiđirnar tćr, men ilt er tađ
treystiđ at valiđ er gjřrt, leiđin bert ein
Leiđin er lřgd, í gróti er hřgd
og eru vit nřgd tá sřgnin er sřgd
[Translation:]
And whoever reigns these cliffs, did not defeat the wind
They held the tiller when the storm broke loose
“Steer into the wind,” shouted one and united they
pulled the tiller, but all in vain
The course has been set, carved in stone
And are we satisfied when the tale is told
And does your ship advance regardless of what you want
They fought over the rudderless tiller
And still we hold the tiller as we
Think we are free, thrallborn unconsulted so
We all drift on the graveyard field
In desolate halls, about distant mountains
Drenched and weary by the northwestern
storm, and the winds rages in Midgard
To Asgard where the Ash stood, like the
threads of life then flapped in the breeze
We all drift on the graveyard field
In desolate halls, about distant mountains
And plains, knowing what goal we are capable of living
And destiny draws slowly, we drift to meet it
We all drift on the graveyard field
In desolate halls, about distant mountains
Well aware of the course of destiny but it is
comforting that choice is before us
Countless your possible courses, but
discomforting that the choice has been made,
only one course
The course has been set, carved in stone
And are we satisfied when the tale is told
