[Bjarkemålets efterklang/ The echo of the Bjarke tongue]

Bjarkemålets efterklang/ The echo of the Bjarke tongue

The sun is up.
The forest tops
Are gleaming like the roof of Gimle.
The cock's wings, the cockcrow
Brings us tidings of the bright day.
Danish heroes awake, awake.
Jump up and buckle their belts.
Day and deed are giant rhymes. Loudly blaring
The lure calls
Giants out of ther morning doze.
Posts are creaking,
Flames are crashing
Blazing over the green grove.
Waking up, not to hear talk of merriment,
Not to wine and smiles ind the kings halls.
The game of Hildur is now at hand. Rolf can blanch,
Bjarke can sink,
Hjalte can swim in his own blood.
The arches of Lejre
Can in flames
Fall down at Hjartvar's feet
The field he cannot keep.
Before the embers grow cold,
The last spark will kill him. The sun is up.
The forest tops
Are gleaming like the roof of Gimle.
The cock's wings, the cockcrow
Brings us tidings of the bright day.
Danish heroes awake, awake.
Jump up and buckle their belts.
Dawn is golden.