Eismahd [English translation]

Golden in the midday light

The spiked field glows and swings

Ripe and full of grain in the summer wind

The glory of proud spikes

Bends to the ground and awaits

Covered in the dust of the heat, the coming mowing

But from far

The almighty hail is threatening with heavy clouds

To destroy the glory of the harvest with his army of ice

August's bitter guest

Comes down into the thicket of spikes

Hailstones break the spires with primal violence

The song of hail is fading

He spoke his verdict cold and white

A single spire sinks to the ground at his command

But in the ripe field

The spikes stand tight

Unbendingly they resist the hail in their strong bond