Dark Valley, a corpse-white moon shines.
Dwarf-cave, the mystery deceives your view.
Sindri’s daughters, sons, and all children,
in winter nights, they warm themselves in the stony mountains.
Others build houses and halls, castles and cabins.
Come into the cave, because here, here it is good to sleep.
Here it is good to sleep.
Magical staves, carved in a massive stone,
dwarf-graves, cairns, and old bones.
Hel’s power, captured in the deep valley.
Pitch-black darkness (nearly), in the golden hall.
Lie down my children, yes, great is our living room.
The stone floor is sparkling clean and here, here it is good to sleep.
Here it is good to sleep.
Being enthroned on flinty bedrock,
the peaks of high mountains.
Sindri and Hergill take a nap;
the gray dwarves sleep here.
Hear, my dear grande dame,
here it is good to sleep.
Falling asleep now,
the dark couple and the three children.
When the clap of thunder is heard,
we shall praise Thor.
Inside our warm cave,
here it is good to sleep.
The indwellers sing a lullaby,
now the dwarf-folk are sleeping.