Sunday night, twelve weeks before winter,
the world is in a smoky haze.
Suddenly there appears a rider in the East,
He rides on into the wintry darkness,
and brandishes his flame like a spear;
below him there races his ghost steed,
draping the night in fear.
His steed strains as he reaches out over the reins
and hurls his flame at the West..
the mountains dissolve in fire
and he races through them, screaming:
'I ride an icy stallion,
fire at each end and poison at the centre -
you won't hear my words as I scream into the darkness:
his plans are like a firebrand,
his plans are like a firebrand! '.
Heed the words which emanate from Hildiglum.