Listen to me all the sacred families,
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Great and small children of Heimdall!
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One, you want me to tell
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About the past of all beings, about the ancient that I remember...
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I remember nine worlds, and nine roots,
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And the tree of the limit, not yet sprouted.
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At the beginning of time, when Ymir lived,
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There was neither sand nor sea in the world,
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The earth was not yet and the firmament,
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The abyss gaped, the grass did not grow...
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Your voice full of rage is silent,
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Mighty Elivagar,
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A chain is thrown on you by hand
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invisible enemy,
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Streams of your unruly waters
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Break the eternal run
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The barren plain stretched ice
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In the place of great rivers.
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The north of the abyss is dressed in chain mail of winters,
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But Grim will tame the storm,
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Will lay the foundation for good ages,
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Origin of the nine worlds.
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In the land of fierce cold and whiteness,
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In the limit of gray snow
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Violent Jotuns are born
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But the hour of the gods is coming...
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And Midgard will rise among the rains,
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And he will be beautiful
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And the glory of his brave children
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Will not perish in the darkness of time,
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And Alfheim by the fire of golden chambers
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Decorate the sky space,
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And the hammers of the dwarfs will pound
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In the deep caves of the mountains,
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And the ash, washed with the dew of Urd,
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Will cover the worlds with leaves,
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Twelve lords will ascend the thrones...
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But the north until then
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Lost in the ice in a lonely dream,
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Centuries do not know the score,
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And only a blizzard knows the song about
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What was and what is to come. |