The north wind, Gust cold,
howling, evicting the immeh,
cutting a white streak into the snow,
casting a shadow on the white earth.
The wind is cold, tufty
in the morning with a duck,
biting frost ,
with a reedy air.
I will find a stone under the treasure,
And I will hide it under the pyre,
I will hide the gold from the cursed,
and the silver from the takers
until I sleep sleep,
through the winter in my fur.
I get tired, I warm myself,
I dye in my furs.
I dreamed of a sweetheart,
of the gracious giver of a treasure,
beside the stump of a kankian,
homeless limestone
Kell' is lucky, kell' lies,
let it be hidden from others.
Kell has great luck,
may I protect it

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN