Graven Takeheimens Saler
Naberg reiste seg, når ved
Mannahemens garden
Økstid, Sverdtid, ufred var der ikke
Dog var er byllepestens plager
Ingen gjestet frender
Ingen gjestet prest
Ingen drog til byen
Uten lanse og til hest
I Opphavs tider sang de sanger
For seg selv og sine fedre
I dag synges kun de sanger
Som skal gjøre morgendagen bedre
Sanger for den neste
Ingen sanger for den Beste
Svik og løgn har fått sin plass
I midgard jotneses palass
En mann vandret rolig, sikker
Stolt der mellom hus
Han ferdedes blant folk
Han tråkket tyredd der blant mus
Flere hundre menn
Han gjestet hver kald natt
Han var eníyd, høy og tynn
Og på sitt hode bar han hatt
Ensom mann han vandret
Over bivsrot en kald morgen
Han ristet på sitt hode
Over menneskenes tap
For de sikret seg en plass
I en ufødt tragisk himmel
For de vandret nor og ned
For de råtnet i Hels fred
The Halls of Graven Takeheimen
The mountain rose, when by
The garden of Manheim
Axe time, Sword time, no unrest was there
Yet the plagues of the bubonic plague were
No guests visited kin
No guests visited priests
No one went to the city
Without a lance and on horseback
In the times of Origin they sang songs
For themselves and their fathers
Today only the songs are sung
That will make tomorrow better
Songs for the next
No songs for the Best
Betrayal and lies have found their place
In the palace of the Jotun's midgard
A man walked calmly, confidently
Proudly between houses
He moved among people
He trod fearlessly among mice
Several hundred men
He visited each cold night
He was one-eyed, tall and thin
And on his head he wore a hat
The lonely man walked
Over the cold morning dew
He shook his head
Over the loss of humanity
For they secured a place
In an unborn tragic heaven
For they walked north and down
For they rotted in Hel's peace
Escrita por: Count Grishnackh