Branches as high as vigilant eye could see, [bad word]  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 its leaves...
And he began to speak...

Land er heilagt,
er ek liggja sé
ásum ok álfum nær
en í Þrúðheimi
skal Þór vera,
unz of rjúfask regin.

Ýdalir heita
þar er Ullur hefir
sér of görva sali
Álfheim Frey
gáfu í árdaga
tívar at tannféi.

Roots as deep as the very depths of heart,
Source for those who know what's still [bad word] ..
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 heilagt,
er ek liggja sé
ásum ok álfum nær
en í Þrúðheimi
skal Þór vera,
unz of rjúfask regin.

Ýdalir heita
þar er Ullur hefir
sér of görva sali
Álfheim Frey
gáfu í árdaga
tívar at tannféi.