Ísafold [English translation]

Your coldness gnaws to the bone

The gem of warmth has through sorrow turned to lead

So many animal days and nights

You live in my head

In the vicious haze of night

She dances without wound

The frozen ground bleeds here

Flesh endowed with rot

Even so, the soul rises

Out from slumber there will be holy wells

With the rot of blood as a weapon

Bliss for every nerve

The hope was sick and the self worshipped

In the other holy places

I don't hear the storm raging any longer.

Come in.