Vil du meg lyda, eg kveda kan om einkvan nytan drengjen, alt om han Olav steson, som hev'e sovi so lengje.

Og det var Olav steson, som hev'e sovi so lengje.

Han la seg ned om joleftan, sterkan svevnen fekk, vakna 'kje fyrr om trettandagjen, d folkjet t kyrkjun gjekk.

Han la seg ned om joleftan, no hev han sovi so lengje, vakna 'kje fyrr om trettandagjen, d fuglane skoke vengjir.

Han vakna 'kje fyrr om trettandagjen, d soli rann i li'e, d sala han ut fljotan folen, han ville t kyrkjun ride.

Presten stend'e fyr altare og les upp lestine lange, Olav set seg i kyrkjedynni og tel'e draumane mange.

Gamle mennar og unge dei gjev'e etter gaum'e med' han Olav steson tel'e sine draume.

Will you hearken to me, I can sing Of a good young man, About Olav steson, Who had been asleep for so long.

And it was Olav steson, Who had been asleep for so long.

He lay himself down on Christmas Eve, Taken by a strong sleep, Did not awake until Epiphany, When people were going to church.

He laid himself down on Christmas Eve, Now he has slept for so long, Did not awake until Epiphany, When the birds shook their wings.

He did not awake until Epiphany, When the sun dawned on the hillside, Then he saddled his swift mount, Intending to ride to church.

The priest stands by the altar, Reading out long passages, Olav seats himself by the church door, And tells of his many dreams.

Old men and young, Gave their attention, While Olav steson Told of his dreams.

Eg la meg ned om joleftan, sterkan svevnen fekk, vakna 'kje fyrr om trettandagjen, d folkjet t kyrkjun gjekk.

For mnen skin'e og vegjine falle so vide.

Eg hev vori meg upp med sky og ned-att med havet svarte; den som vil mitt fotspor fylje, lr 'kje av blidom hjarta.

Eg hev vori meg upp med sky og ned-att med havsens grunne; den som vil mitt fotspor fylje, lr 'kje av blidom munne.

Eg hev vori meg upp med sky og ned-att p svarte dikje; eg hev stt t heite helvite og ein del av himmerikje.

Eg hev fari yvi vigde vatnet og yvi djupe dalar; hyrer vatn, og ser det inkje, unde jordi so mune det fara.

Eg er so trytt og ferde-mod, og inna so mune eg brenne; eg hyrer vatn, og fr det inkje, unde jordi so mune det renne.

Inkje kneggja soten min, inkje gydde min hund'e, inkje gol dei ottefuglan': det tottest meg vera under.

Eg var meg i auromheime i mange netter og tr, det veit gud i himmerik hosse mang ei naud eg sg.

Eg kan noko av kvrjom derfyr tykkjest eg frod; eg var longe i moldi mka, ha eg tott den dauden god.

I laid me down on Christmas Eve, Taken by a strong sleep, Did not awake until Epiphany, When people were going to church.

For the moon shines, And the paths disperse so wide.

I have been up with the clouds and down to the ocean dark Those who wish to follow my footsteps, Will not laugh lightheartedly.

I have been up with the clouds And down at the ocean floor; Those who wish to follow my footsteps, Will not laugh from merry mouth.

I have been up with the clouds And down on the dark moors; I have seen the heat of hell, And a part of the heavenly kingdom.

I have traveled over the hallowed water, And over deep dales; I hear water, but see it not, It seems to run under the earth.

I am so tired and travel-weary, And inside me I seem to burn; I hear water, but reach it not, It seems to flow under the earth.

My horse did not neigh, My hound did not bark, The morning birds did not chirp; It seemed strange to me.

I was in the Otherworld, For many long nights; God in heaven knows How much misery I saw.

I know something about many a thing Therefore I am though to be wise, A long time I was in hell, I've come to know death well.

Fyrst'e eg var i uteksti, eg fr yvi tynnyr-mog: sund'e gjekk mi skarlakskpe og neglan' av kvr min fot.

For mnen skin'e og vegjine falle so vide.

So var eg meg i uteksti igjennom den tynnyr-ring: sund'e gjekk mi skarlakskpe og neglan' av kvr min fing.

Kjem eg meg t Gjallarbrui, ho heng'e so hgt i vinde; ho er oll med gulle slengji og saum i kvrjom tinde.

Ormen hgg'e, og bikkja bit'e, og stuten stend midte p leii: tri er tingji p Gjallarbrui, og alle er gramme og vreide.

Bikkja bit, og ormen sting, og stuten stend og stangar – det slepp ingjen yvi Gjallarbrui som feller domane vrange.

Eg hev gjengji Gjallarbrui, ho er bde bratt og lei; vassa so hev eg dei Vsemyran', no er eg kvitt'e dei.

Va'i so hev eg dei Vsemyran', der hev kje sta'i meg grunn; no hev eg gjengji Gjallarbrui med rapa mold i munn.

Eg hev gjengji Gjallarbrui, og der var krokane p; men eg totte tyngre dei Gaglemyran', gud bre den dei sk g!

The first time I went hence, I traveled over a bed of thorns, Torn was my scarlet cloak, And likewise the nails on my feet.

For the moon shines, And the paths disperse so wide.

When I went hence I travelled through a ring of thorns; Torn was my scarlet cloak, And likewise the nails on my fingers.

I came to the Gjallar Bridge She hangs so high in the air, All of the bridge is with gold covered And there are spikes in each end.

The serpent stings and the hound bites, And the ox stands in the middle: Three are the creatures on the Gjallar Bridge, And all are grim and wrathful.

The hound bites, the serpent stings, And the ox stands goring, They let none over the Gjallar Bridge, Who has judged wrongly.

I have walked the Gjallar Bridge, It is both steep and hard; I have waded through the Vs moors Now I am past them.

I have waded through the moors, No foothold found I there; Now have I walked the Gjallar Bridge, With mire soil in my mouth.

I have walked the Gjallar Bridge, Fastened with hooks; But the moors were harder, God help those who there go!

So kom eg meg t votno dei, der isane brunne bl; gud skaut det i hugjen min: eg vende meg derifr.

For mnen skin'e, og vegjine falle so vide.

Eg var meg i auroheime, ingjen der eg kjende, berre ho sle gudmor mi med raude gull p hende.

Sume fr yvi Grimarsen og sume yvi Sklestrond, men dei som fr yvi Gjallarhylen, dei kome vte fram.

So tok eg av p vetterstig alt p mi hgre hnd; der sg eg meg til Paradis, det lyser yvi vene lnd.

Der sg eg att'e gudmor mi; meg mune kje bet'e gange: Reis du deg til Brokksvalin, der sk domen stande.

Then I came to those waters Where the ice burned black; God directed my mind, I went away from there.

For the moon shines, And the paths disperse so wide.

I was in the Otherworld, I knew no one there, Only my blessed godmother With bright gold on her hands.

Some went over the Grimar Mound And others over the Skle Sands But those who crossed the Gjallar Stream Came out wet on the other shore.

Then I turned onto a winter path On my right hand side; There I saw Paradise Such glimmering fair lands.

There I again saw my godmother I did not know where to go: "Get thyself to Brokksvalin Where judgment shall be pronounced”.

Kjem eg meg t pilegrimskyrkjun, der var meg ingen mann kjend'e, berre ho gode gudmor mi med raude gull p hende.

I Brokksvalin der sk domen stande.

Der kom ferdi nordantil, og den rei no so kvast; fyre rei Grutte grskjeggje alt med sitt store brass.

Der kom ferdi nordantil, det totte eg vera vesst; fyre rei Grutte grskjeggje, han rei p svartan hest.

Der kom ferdi sunnantil, det tottest meg vera best; fyre rei sankte sle-Mikkjel, han rei p kvitan hest.

Der kom ferdi sunnantil, og den rei no so tvist; fyre rei sankte sle-Mikkjel, neste Jesum Krist.

Der kom ferdi sunnantil, ho tottest meg vera tr: fyre rei sankte sle-Mikkjel, og luren unde armen lg.

Det var sankte sle-Mikkjel, han bles i luren lange: Og no sk alle sline fram fyr domen gange!

Men d skolv dei synde-sline som ospelauv fyr vinde, og kvr den, kvr den sl der var, ho gret fyr syndine sine.

Det var sankte sle-Mikkjel, han vog i skle-vikt; s vog han alle synde-sline bort til Jesum Krist.

When I came to the pilgrims’ church I knew no man there, Only my good godmother With bright gold on her hands.

In Brokksvalin, Where judgment shall be pronounced.

From the north a host came, They rode so hard; In front rode the Devil Behind him his great host.

From the north a host came, I though it to be terrible, In front rode the Devil He rode upon a black horse.

From the south a host came, I though it to be good, In the front rode lord of souls Saint Michael, He rode upon a white horse.

From the south a host came, Riding so silently, In the front rode lord of souls Saint Michael, Next to Jesus Christ.

From the south a host came, They seemed slow to me; In the front rode lord of souls Saint Michael, And a horn lay under his arm.

It was Saint Michael, He sounded the long horn: And now all souls Will would receive judgement.

The souls began to tremble, Like aspen leaves in wind; And each and every soul there Wept over its sins.

It was lord of souls Saint Michael, Weighing in his scales, Then he weighed all sinning souls, Towards Jesus Christ.

Eg sg meg einom drengjen, det fyrste eg vart ved, liten smsvein bar han i fangje og gjekk i jordi til knes.

I Brokksvalin der sk domen stande.

Kjem eg meg t manne dei, kpa den var bly: hans arme sl i dessom heime var trong i dyre tid.

Kjem eg meg t monno dei, dei bar p gloande jord: gud nde dei fattige sline som flutte deildir i skog!

Kjem eg meg t bonno dei, dei stoge so hgt p glo: gud nde dei synduge sline, ha banna bort far og mor!

Kjem eg meg t podda og ormen dei hoggje kvrare med tanne: det var synduge syskjeni som ha'e kvrare banna.

Der mtte eg dei ormane tvei, dei bit'e kvrare i sporde: det var dei synduge syskjenbonni som gifte kvrare p jordi.

Kjem eg meg t Syslehuset, det var trollkjeringan' inne: dei stod kinna i raude blodet, det var so tung ei vinne.

Der er heitt i helvite, heitar hell nokon hyggje; der hengde dei 'pivi ein tjrukjetil og brytja ned i ein presterygg'e.

I saw a young man, The first I came by, A little boy he bore in his arms; He was in earth to his knees.

In brokksvalin, Where judgment shall be pronounced.

I came by a man, His cloak was lead: This poor soul in our world Was greedy in hard times.

I came to several men, They carried glowing soil: God have mercy on the poor souls Who moved border-stones in the woods.

I came to several children, They stood there aflame: God have mercy on the sinning souls, Who cursed their father and mother.

I came to the toad and the serpent, They stung each other with their teeth: They were sinning siblings, Who had cursed each other.

There I met two serpents, They bit each other in the tails: They were sinful cousins, Who married each other on earth.

I came to the witches house There were witches inside: They stood in a pool of blood, So heavy was their work.

It is hot in hell, Hotter than anyone thinks; There they hanged over a cauldron with tar, And chopped a priest down.

Sl er den i fdesheimen fatige gjev'e sko: han tarv ikkje berrftt gange p kvasse heklemog.

Tunga talar, og sanning svarar p domedag.

Sl er den i fdesheimen fatige gjev'e ku: han tarv ikkje sumlug gange p hge Gjallarbru.

Sl er den i fdesheimen fatige gjev'e braud: han tarv ikkje rdast i auromheime fyr horske hundegau.

Sl er den i fdesheimen fatige gjev'e korn: han tarv ikkje rdast p Gjallarbrui fyr kvasse stutehorn.

Sl er den i fdesheimen fatige gjev'e mat: han tarv ikkje rdast i auromheime anten fyr h'e hell hat.

Sl er den i fdesheimen fatige gjev'e klde: han tarv ikkje rdast i auromheime fyr hge kjellar-brde.

He is blessed on earth Who gives shoes to the poor: He need not walk bare-footed On the bed of thorns.

The tongue speaks, And truth is told on judgment day.

He is blessed on earth Who gives a cow to the poor: He need not walk dizzily On the high Gjallar Bridge.

He is blessed on earth Who gives bread to the poor: He need not fear in the Otherworld The harsh baying of hounds.

He is blessed on earth Who gives grain to the poor: He need not fear upon the Gjallar Bridge The sharp horns of the ox.

He is blessed on earth Who gives food to the poor: He need not fear in the Otherworld Neither mockery nor hatred.

He is blessed on earth Who gives clothes to the poor: He need not fear in the Otherworld High mountains of ice.

Gamle mennar og unge dei gjev'e etter gaum'e det var han Olav steson, no hev han tlt sine draume.

Statt upp, Olav steson, som hev'e sovi so lengje.

Old men and young Gave their attention; That was Olav steson, Now he has told his dreams.

Stand up, Olav steson, Who was asleep for so long.