Sunday night, twelve weeks before winter,
The world is in a smoky haze.
Suddenly there appears a rider in the east,
Brandishing flame.
He rides on into the wintry darkness,
And brandishes his flame like a spear;
Below him there races his ghost steed,
Draping the night in fear.
His steed strains as he reaches out over the reins
And hurls his flame at the west.. .
The mountains dissolve in fire
And he races through them, screaming:
'i ride an icy stallion,
Fire at each end and poison at the centre -
You won't hear my words as i scream into the darkness:
His plans are like a firebrand,
His plans are like a firebrand!'
Njal, beware!
Heed the words which emanate from hildiglum.
