Kuovsakasah reukarih tåkko teki, sira ria
Tåkko teki
Sira ria, sira siraa ria
Guovssat, guovssat radni go, libai libai libaida
Ruoná gákti, nu nu nu

Winter night, the sky is filled with symphony of light, the sky is flooded with rivers of light. The doors of heaven have been opened tonight. From horizon to horizon misty dragons swim through the sky, green curtains billow and swirl, fast-moving, sky-filling, the tissues of gossamer. Nothing can be heard. Light shakes over the vault of heaven, its veil of glittering silver changing now to yellow, now to green, now to red. It spreads in restless change, into waving, into many-folded bands of silver. It shimmers in tongues of flame, over the very zenith it shoots a bright ray up until the whole melts away as a sigh of departing soul in the moonlight, leaving a glow in the sky like the dying embers of a great fire