|
At a stormy night, |
|
where roughly voices and darkly tunes ring out. |
|
He rides fast by forests and meadows. |
|
Lead of a magic power it does not know a grace and no rest. |
|
His will is strongly - never less strength shrinks, |
|
too strong for it, the strength of the wind. |
|
The way is far, |
|
that the target makes courage, pride and honour |
|
for the companions of the fame. |
|
It defies all dangers, he's skillful with his sword and shield. |
|
All weapons sharpened the elbows strained. |
|
He is decided to the triumph each fight. |
|
The way is far, |
|
that the target makes courage, pride and honour |
|
for the companions of the fame |
|
The target is achieved, in the heathen village reported this people. |
|
Of his journeys and his acts, |
|
A large celebration in honours of the king, |
|
a feast so sumptuously with drink and meals. |
|
The storm put, the night goes to end, |
|
luck and joy a beautful time. |
|
The way is far, |
|
that the target makes courage, pride and honour |
|
for the companions of the fame |
