"Þá frá ek sennu

slíðrfengligsta,

trauð mál, talið

af trega stórum,

er harðhuguð

hvatti at vígi

grimmum orðum

Guðrún sonu:"

"A word-strife I learned,

most woeful of all,

A speech from the fullness

of sorrow spoken,

When fierce of heart

her sons to the fight

Did Guthrun whet

with words full grim."

"Hví sitið ér,

hví sofið lífi,

hví tregr-at ykkr

teiti at mæla,

er Jörmunrekkr

yðra systur,

unga at aldri,

jóm of traddi,

hvítum ok svörtum,

á hervegi,

grám, gangtömum

Gotna hrossum?"

"Why sit ye idle,

why sleep out your lives,

Why grieve ye not

in gladness to speak?

Since Jormunrek

your sister young

Beneath the hoofs

of horses hath trodden,

(White and black

on the battle-way,

Gray, road-wonted,

the steeds of the Goths.)"

"Urðu-a it glíkir

þeim Gunnari

né in heldr hugðir

sem var Högni;

hennar munduð it

hefna leita,

ef móð ættið

minna bræðra

eða harðan hug

Húnkonunga."

"Not like are ye

to Gunnar of yore,

Nor have ye hearts

such as Hogni's was;

Vengeance for her

ye soon would have

If brave ye were

as my brothers of old,

Or hard your hearts

as the Hunnish kings'."

"Þá kvað þat Hamðir

inn hugumstóri:

Lítt myndir þú

leyfa dáð Högna,

þá er Sigurð vökðu

svefni ór;

bækr váru þínar

enar bláhvítu

roðnar í vers dreyra,

folgnar í valblóði."

"Then Hamther spake,

the high of heart:

Little the deed

of Hogni didst love,

When Sigurth they wakened

from his sleep;

Thy bed-covers white

were red with blood

Of thy husband, drenched

with gore from his heart."

"Urðu þér beggja

bræðra hefndir

slíðrar ok sárar,

er þú sonu myrðir;

knættim allir

Jörmunrekki

samhyggjendr

systur hefna."

"Bloody revenge

didst have for thy brothers,

Evil and sore,

when thy sons didst slay;

Else yet might we all

on Jormunrek

Together our sister's

slaying avenge."

"Berið hnossir fram

Húnkonunga;

hefir þú okkr hvatta

at hjörþingi."

"The gear of the Hunnish

kings now give us!

Thou hast whetted us so

to the battle of swords."

"Hlæjandi Guðrún

hvarf til skemmu,

kumbl konunga

ór kerum valði,

síðar brynjur,

ok sonum færði,

hlóðusk móðgir

á mara bógu."

"Laughing did Guthrun

go to her chamber,

The helms of the kings

from the cupboards she took,

And mail-coats broad,

to her sons she bore them;

On their horses' backs

the heroes leaped."

Þá kvað þat Hamðir

inn hugumstóri:

"Svá kemsk meir aftr

móður at vitja

geir-Njörðr hniginn

á Goðþjóðu,

at þú erfi

at öll oss drykkir,

at Svanhildi

ok sonu þína."

Then Hamther spake,

the high of heart:

"Homeward no more

his mother to see

Comes the spear-god,

fallen mid Gothic folk;

One death-draught thou

for us all shalt drink,

For Svanhild then

and thy sons as well."

"Guðrún grátandi,

Gjúka dóttir,

gekk hon tregliga

á tái sitja

ok at telja

tárughlýra

móðug spjöll

á margan veg:"

"Weeping Guthrun,

Gjuki's daughter,

Went sadly before

the gate to sit,

And with tear-stained cheeks

to tell the tale

Of her mighty griefs,

so many in kind."

"Þrjá vissa ek elda,

þrjá vissa ek arna,

var ek þrimr verum

vegin at húsi;

einn var mér Sigurðr

öllum betri,

er bræðr mínir

at bana urðu."

"Three home-fires knew I,

three hearths I knew,

Home was I brought

by husbands three;

But Sigurth only

of all was dear,

He whom my brothers

brought to his death."

"Svárra sára

sák-at ek né kunna,

*********

meir þóttusk

mér of stríða,

er mik öðlingar

Atla gáfu."

"A greater sorrow

I saw not nor knew,

Yet more it seemed

I must suffer yet

When the princes great

to Atli gave me."

"Húna hvassa

hét ek mér at rúnum;

máttig-a-k bölva

betr of vinna,

áðr ek hnóf höfuð

af Hniflungum."

"The brave boys I summoned

to secret speech;

For my woes requital

I might not win

Till off the heads

of the Hniflungs I hewed."

"Gekk ek til strandar,

gröm vark nornum,

vilda ek hrinda

stríð grið þeira;

hófu mik, né drekkðu,

hávar bárur,

því ek land of sték,

at lifa skyldak."

"To the sea I went,

my heart full sore

For the Norns, whose wrath

I would now escape;

But the lofty billows

bore me undrowned,

Till to land I came,

so I longer must live."

"Gekk ek á beð,

hugðak mér fyr betra,

þriðja sinni

þjóðkonungi;

ól ek mér jóð,

erfivörðu,

erfivörðu,

Jónakrs sonum."

"Then to the bed

of old was it better!

Of a king of the folk

a third time I came;

Boys I bore

his heirs to be,

Heirs so young,

the sons of Jonak."

"En um Svanhildi

sátu þýjar,

er ek minna barna

bazt fullhugðak;

svá var Svanhildr

í sal mínum

sem væri sæmleitr

sólar geisli."

"But round Svanhild

handmaidens sat,

She was dearest ever

of all my children;

So did Svanhild

seem in my hall

As the ray of the sun

is fair to see."

"Gædda ek gulli

ok guðvefjum,

áðr ek gæfak

Goðþjóðar til;

þat er mér harðast

harma minna

of þann inn hvíta

hadd Svanhildar,

auri tröddu

und jóa fótum."

"Gold I gave her

and garments bright,

Ere I let her go

to the Gothic folk;

Of my heavy woes

the hardest it was

When Svanhild's tresses

fair were trodden

In the mire by hoofs

of horses wild."

"En sá sárastr,

er þeir Sigurð minn,

sigri ræntan,

í sæing vágu,

en sá grimmastr,

er þeir Gunnari

fránir ormar

til fjörs skriðu,

en sá hvassastr,

er til hjarta

konung óblauðan

kvikvan skáru."

"The sorest it was

when Sigurth mine

On his couch, of victory

robbed, they killed;

And grimmest of all

when to Gunnar's heart

There crept the bright-hued

crawling snakes.

And keenest of all

when they cut the heart

From the living breast

of the king so brave;"

"Fjölð man ek bölva,

*********

Beittu, Siguðr,

inn blakka mar,

hest inn hraðfæra

láttu hinig renna;

sitr eigi hér

snör né dóttir,

sú er Guðrúnu

gæfi hnossir."

"Many woes I remember,

*********

Bridle, Sigurth,

thy steed so black,

Hither let run

thy swift-faring horse;

Here there sits not

son or daughter

Who yet to Guthrun

gifts shall give."

"Minnsktu, Sigurðr,

hvat vit mæltum,

þá er vit á beð

bæði sátum,

at þú myndir mín,

móðugr, vitja,

halr, ór helju,

en ek þín ór heimi."

"Remember, Sigurth,

what once we said,

When together both

on the bed we sat,

That mightily thou

to me wouldst come

From hell and I

from earth to thee."

"Hlaðið ér, jarlar,

eikiköstinn,

látið þann und hilmi

hæstan verða;

megi brenna brjóst

bölvafullt eldr,

þrungit um hjarta

þiðni sorgir."

"Pile ye up, jarls,

the pyre of oak,

Make it the highest

a hero e'er had;

Let the fire burn

my grief-filled breast,

My sore-pressed heart,

till my sorrows melt."

"Jörlum öllum

óðal batni,

snótum öllum

sorg at minni,

at þetta tregróf

of talit væri."

"May nobles all

less sorrow know,

And less the woes

of women become,

Since the tale of this

lament is told."