To be sung at the table to dark ØL:

To be sung at the table to dark beer:

For the windy north and winter, BROR,

for the graying star of the morning clear,

for our home and our country and our praying mother,

for teeming cities and ice-heavy rivers

we raise our stop – and for days to come

and for the love and happiness that was.

Reconciled and happy in the hour of the star

we forget that the earth was scorched by hate.

We rise up under stars that shine…

Around us the night of the saints we perceive…

for them and for the earth, for heaven and for us

our stops we raise, comrade.