Translation of the song lyrics Tor i Helheim - Myrkur

Tor i Helheim (original)

En stol højt monne stande alt under hvælvet sten
Den var af hovedpande og skøre dødningben
Der så man Hel at true, alt var hun hvid mod fod
Mod issen blå at skue af underløbet blod
Et dødningben det hvide vel bleget i måneskin
Hun straktes ud til kvide med et hævngærrigt sind
Det vare muldent lugte hun sprang det som en vånd
Som kongespir hun brugte det i sin grumme hånd
Det var så tyst derinde, en liglugt overalt
Der rørtes ingen vinde kun hule suk gengjaldt
Tre fakler blåligt lue ved hver en dødning stod
Man idel rædsel skue med intet spor af blod
Der så man Tor at smile, han vendte sig omkring
Han monne hurtigt ile hen i de dødes ring
Han råbte højt derinde da disse strenge ord
Så gå det hver en kvinde som ej tør følge Tor
I usselige dåre som frygter sår og død
Nu Hel jer evigt såre med kval og bitter nød
I lod ej hjelmen hvælve om issen kækt i strid
I skabtes til at skælve så skælv til evig tid
Derpå den strenge kæmpe tren fast for Hela frem
Han måtte stemmen dæmpe i hendes mørke hjem
Han sagde gustne kvinde retfærdigt straffer du
Dog står jeg ej herinde i en frivillig hu
Til Udgårds drot at drage dertil stod fast mit sind
Der kunne han så mage at her jeg vandret ind
Thi sig mig hvis du mægter hvad vej jeg vandre må
For til de stærke slægter i Jotunheim at gå
Der skreg til Mjølners svinger Hel med sin stemme styg
Det klang som sværdet klinger udi en panserryg
Forlad min sort bue gå frem snart est du der
Det blænder mig at skue din sundheds rosenskjær
Der vinkte brat behænde gud Tor med dristigt blik
Sig Loke bort mon vende da Hel forbi han gik
Fast han sit øje lukkede så tungt var ham den gang
Hun så på ham og sukkede i hendes spir det klang

Tor i Helheim (translation)

A throne stands high beneath the arch of stone,
Fashioned from skull-brows and brittle bones of the dead,
There Hel loomed threatening, pale to her ivory toes,
Her scalp shimmered blue, glazed by seeped ancient blood,
A bone, moon-washed and spectral, ghostly white,
She stretched in anguish, vengeance swirling in her mind,
The air was thick with rot—she pounced as fever strikes,
She gripped it, cruel as a scepter in a monarch’s hand,
There, silence clung—a miasma of corpses on every side,
No wind would stir; only hollow sighs echoed there,
Three torches, cold and blue, flared near every dead shade,
Only terror was beheld—no crimson marred that sight,
There Thor was glimpsed, a smile flickering on his lips,
Swiftly he hastened to the ring where the dead convened,
He thundered fierce within those vaults, his words flint-sharp:
So may it fall on every woman fearing to follow Thor’s path,
You pitiful fools who blanch at wounds and death,
Now Hel shall wound you evermore with pain and bitter want,
You never crowned your heads in battle with a warrior’s helm,
You were born to shiver—so tremble, world without end,
Then the stern giant strode, unwavering, before Hela’s throne,
He had to hush his voice in her abode of gloom,
He said: “Wan woman, your justice is cold and true,”
“Yet I have not come here of my own free will,”
“My heart was set to journey to the lord of Utgard’s gates,”
“By fate, I wandered here, not knowing how I strayed,”
“So tell me, if your power allows, which path I must pursue,”
“To reach the mighty kin who dwell in Jotunheim,”
Then Hel shrieked, her voice as foul as carrion wind,
It rang like sword on mail, cold iron against bone,
Leave my black threshold—go forth, your way lies near,”
“It dazzles me to bear the rose-glow of your health,”
There swiftly boldly, god Thor signaled with his eyes,
He bade Loki turn aside as Hel passed on her course,
He shut his eyes, the moment heavy as a funeral bell,
She gazed on him and sighed—the spire echoed her song.