In the peaceful cradle of the beginning of time
The venerable unbroken mountain
With dew sprinkled. Like a fraternal flag
Branches danced over the moss-covered slope
Sweetness radiated around the head of the primeval mountain
Fjärmers echoed its eternal hymn
Sweet sound ¥go in the soul-filled mass
Transformed strength from anxiety and nausea
You have nurtured the northern songs of the valley
You sent spell power to the corner of the heart
In the glow of the sacrificial flame the twilight prayers
Circling the ground where your judgment stands
The troll king's breath in your inner tongue
The shadowy omnipotence in victorious peace< br/>Your shell is his his armor when thunderclouds heather
He has sat your high seat in endless time
A horn play now foretells of danger
When Christian treads your heathen shrine
A solemn battle song from the songgarkaran
Which bards for the mountain's protective gnome
You stand twisted in the deep-rich mist
With naked runes as a king's throne
In the gentle morning streak
You, oldest of thrones in the homeland nol
[English translation :]
The Primordial Mountain, Oldest Of Thrones
In the peaceful cradle of the dawn of time
The reverent unbroken mountain
Decorated by dew sprinkles. Like a brother flag
Branchings danced over mossgrown rock
Bliss shone around the crown of the primordial mountain
In the distance its eternity hymn echoed
Waves of euphony in the soulfilled mass
Transformed fear and anguish into strength
You have fostered the valley's northern sons
You sent magic power to the heart's corner
In the light of the sacrificial flame the evening prayers
Surrounded the ground where your kingdom stands
The troll king's heavy breaths in your inner
The shadow-rich omnipotence in victory-accustomed peace
Your shell is his armor when thunderclouds flash
He has sat your throne in endless time
A hear-play of horn blows now forebodes about danger
When christian treads your heathen sanctuary
A solemn battlesong from the singers' crowd
Who fight for the mountain's protecting gnome
The primordial mountain, oldest of thrones
You stand dressed in the gentle mist
With naked rune-rock as throne
In the mild dawn's morning steak
You, oldest of thrones in native north

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