| …Baner seg |
| stier… fosser…bekker… |
| Blant ulmende knokler og spirende liv, |
| Som yudige Froyas besettende blikk. |
| …Uhemmet lekende… lokkende… |
| Glitrende tarer… av gildeste solver. |
| Hilser det Tvinnil med glede… pa gjensyn… |
| Denne veldige vuggen… dets hjem… |
| …Store Bla… Atals myr… |
| Mane gloder. |
| Egger Yme… til hamskifte. |
| Som Froyas oyne-dansende, lekende. |
| Skal fjellheimens snekledte |
| vende tilbake… hjem… |
| Lange bekker, ned fosser… mot kilden. |
| Veldige Atals myr… |
| Atter gjester Froy oss. |
| Faderlig rundhandet. |
| Sjenker oss atter… |
| …Einmaanads grode… |
| Ymes frosne konkler vakner |
| fra rensende sovn. |
| Under Vinterhvelvs vinge. |
| (Yme's blood returns home) |
| …creating paths… waterfalls…brooks |
| Amongst smouldering knuckles and sprouting life |
| Like sweet Froya’s bewitching look. |
| Unrestrained, playing… seducing… |
| Shimmering tears… of precious silver. |
| It greets Tvinnil with pleasure… |
| we’ll meet again… |
| This vast cradle… its home |
| …Big Blue… Atal's marsh |
| The moon is glowing. |
| Urging Yme… to shed his coat. |
| Like Froya’s eyes — dancing, playful. |
| The mountain’s snow-clothed one |
| Will return… home… |
| Along brooks, down waterfalls… |
| towards the source. |
| Mighty Atal’s marsh… |
| Again Froya is visiting. |
| Fatherly generous. |
| Again he bestows us with… |
| …One month of harvest… |
| Yme’s frozen knuckles awake |
| From purifying sleep. |
| Beneath the Winter Skies |