Urberget, Aldst Av Troner - Vintersorg

I tidsbegynnelsens rofyllda vagga
Det vordnansvardiga obrutna fjall
Av daggstank sirad. Likt en brodraflagga
Dansade grenverk over mossvuxen hall
Sallhet stralade kring urbergets hjassa
Fjarmer ekade dess evighetspsalm
Valljudsvagor i den sjalfyllda massa
Vandlade styrka ur angest och kvalm

Du har fostrat dalgangens nordansoner
Du sande trollkraft till hjartats vra
I offerflammeans sken de skymningsboner
Kringrande marken d?r ditt domme sta
Trollkungens andedrag i ditt innre, tunga
Den skuggrika allmakt i segervand frid
Ditt skal ar hans hans harnesk nar askskyar ljunga
Han suttit ditt hogsate i andlos tid

Ett horspel av hornblas nu varslar om faran
Nar kristlig betrada din hedna helgedom
En hogtidlig kampsang fran sangarkaran
Som bardas for bergets beskyddande gnom

Du skrudad star i den huldrika dimma
Med naken runhall som konungastol
I milda gryningens morgenstrimma
Du, aldst av troner i fosterlandsk nol

[English translation:]

The Primordial Mountain, Oldest Of Thrones

In the peaceful cradle of the dawn of time
The reverent unbroken mountain
Decorated by dew sprinkles. Like a brother flag
Branchings danced over mossgrown rock
Bliss shone around the crown of the primordial mountain
In the distance its eternity psalm echoed
Waves of euphony in the soulfilled mass
Transformed fear and anguish into strength

You have fostered the valley's northern sons
You sent magic power to the heart's corner
In the light of the sacrificial flame the evening prayers
Surrounded the ground where your kingdom stands
The troll king's heavy breaths in your inner
The shadow-rich omnipotence in victory-accustomed peace
Your shell is his armour when thunderclouds flash
He has sat your throne in endless time

A hear-play of horn blows now forebodes about danger
When christian treads your heathen sanctuary
A solemn battlesong from the singers' crowd
Who fight for the mountain's protecting gnome

The primordial mountain, oldest of thrones

You stand dressed in the gentle mist
With naked rune-rock as throne
In the mild dawn's morning steak
You, oldest of thrones in native north

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