From the east a ship is seen, sailing hard for Miðgarðr The hoards of Múspellsheimr sail, with Loki at the helm The wolf guides the men of anguish, men of the end Great Surtr rises from the South, purified by fire we are The wise one is marked by the wolf's gaze For there, he will fall, with the peace of the world Víðarr the mighty, steel in hand feeling the warmth of blood The giants son then soon will die With the last violent thrust of his sword The wolf was no more Battle of the doomed gods May they take back the realm