Nattens klor om landet griper,
over aasen svarte vinger brer seg idet ravner skriker.
Sultent vandrer ulver rundt paa marken...,
jager villt paa glemte stier, med kristenblod
i sine tanker.

Nattens klor om landet griper,
ravnenbb i ussle barn av menn vil rive.
Sultent jager ulver gjennom skogen,
fraade rundt hver kjove idet ferdamann blir lode...

I en grimm svart skog,
hvor skygger danser...
Maanen over tinder troner,
hatske skrik fraa ravner runger.

Ondskap aander, ondskap ferdes,
stillt gjennom hvor en morke skog,
(og) over vidder i det fjerne.

I skogens dype indre,
en aapning der blandt traer,
(der) danser vi nattens sonner,
i maanenattens fred.

Nattens klor om landet griper...

Ulver jager, ravner over aasen stiger,
ondskap aander, ondskap vandrer,
gjennom vaar morke skog,
til en aapning mellom traer...

I en grimm svart skog,
hvor skygger danser...
Maanen over tinder troner,
hatske skrik fraa ravner runger.

I skogens dype indre,
en aapning der blandt traer,
(der) danser vi nattens sonner,
i maanenattens fred.

Translation:

A night with storm and the ravens' shriek

Night's chlorine grabs the land
Over the hills there are black wings, spread like the raven's cry.
Hungry wolves wander around on the ground
chasing wild on forgotten paths,
with Christian blood in their thoughts.

Night's chlorine grabs the land
(?) ravnenbb i ussle (?) the children of men will cry.
Hungry wolves chasing through the woods,
They froth around each kjove as the man's journey is lead.

In a grim black forest, where shadows dance
The Moon is over the peaks' thrones,
hateful cries of ravens resound.

Evil breaths, evil goes
Prepared through a dark forest,
(and) over the plains in the distance.

In the forest's deep interior
an opening among the trees
(where) we dance, the night's sons,
in the peace of the moonnight.

Night's chlorine grabs the land...

The wolves chase, ravens rise over the hills,
evil breaths, evil goes
through the dark forest,
until an opening between the trees...

In a grim black forest, where shadows dance
The Moon is over the peaks' thrones,
hateful cries of ravens resound.

In the forest's deep interior
an opening among the trees
(where) we dance, the night's sons,
in the peace of the moonnight.

See also:
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