Branches as high as a vigilant eye could see
Magic runes, once scratched into this tree
An old man sat down at this mighty oak
Every morning, day by day...
And he closed his eyes
While a gasp blew through it's leaves...
And he began to speak...

Land er heilact, er ec liggia sé
ásom oc álfom næare;
Enn í Þrúðheimi scal þórr vera
Unz um riúfaz regin

Ydalir heita, þar er Ullr hefir
Séare um gorva sali;
Álfheim Frey gáfor í árdaga
Tívar at tannfé

Roots as deep as the very depths of heart
Source for those who know what's still to come...
Man of wisdom and knowledge great
With hair as white as snow...
The young amongst them in a circle sat
And listened to his voice
... While he began to speak...

Land er heilact, er ec liggia sé
ásom oc álfom næare;
Enn í Þrúðheimi scal þórr vera
Unz um riúfaz regin

Ydalir heita, þar er Ullr hefir
Séare um gorva sali;
Álfheim Frey gáfor í árdaga
Tívar at tannfé