Come, thick night, pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell that my keen knife see not the wound it makes nor heaven peep through the dark to cry, "Hold!"
Kom ūú, koldimm nķtt, og sveipa ūig í svartan Vítis-mökk, svo minn hvass kuti sjái hvergi sár sitt, né himinn gegnum hulu sortans rũni og hrķpi.; Nei, nei!