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Song title: Vintersorg - Urberget, ÃƒÂ„ldst av Troner

Edit By: 216.73.217.94

I tidsbegynnelsens rofyllda vagga
Det vÃ¶rdnansvÃ¤rdiga obrutna fjÃ¤ll
Av daggstÃ¤nk sirad. Likt en brÃ¶draflagga
Dansade grenverk Ã¶ver mossvuxen hÃ¤ll
SÃ¤llhet strÃ¥lade kring urbergets hjÃ¤ssa
FjÃ¤rmer ekade dess evighetspsalm
VÃ¤lljudsvÃ¥gor i den sjÃ¤lfyllda mÃ¤ssa
Vandlade styrka ur Ã¥ngest och kvalm

Du har fostrat dalgÃ¥ngens nordansÃ¶ner
Du sÃ¤nde trollkraft till hjÃ¤rtats vrÃ¥
I offerflammeans sken de skymningsbÃ¶ner
KringrÃ¤nde marken dÂ¨r ditt dÃ¶mme stÃ¥
Trollkungens andedrag i ditt innre, tunga
Den skuggrika allmakt i segervand frid
Ditt skal Ã¤r hans hans harnesk nÃ¤r Ã¥skskyar ljunga
Han suttit ditt hÃ¶gsÃ¤te i Ã¤ndlÃ¶s tid

Ett hÃ¶rspel av hornblÃ¥s nu varslar om faran
NÃ¤r kristlig betrÃ¤da din hedna helgedom
En hÃ¶gtidlig kampsÃ¥ng frÃ¥n sÃ¥ngarkaran
Som bardas fÃ¶r bergets beskyddande gnom

Du skrudad stÃ¥r i den huldrika dimma
Med naken runhÃ¤ll som konungastol
I milda gryningens morgenstrimma
Du, Ã¤ldst av troner i fosterlÃ¤ndsk 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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