Autumnal joy!
The bosom of the sea rises stormily;
But I would much rather see
Blossoming leas.

For a long time yet I saw
His sail blowing away in the west:
Travelling with Frithiof, how may it [the sail] 
Be praised as fortunate!

Bluish sea,
You move rapidly enough; oh, do not surge any longer!
Ye stars, shine for the sailor
Brightly into the distance.

When May now comes,
He shall return; but the maiden
Shall not approach him anymore in the hall,
Not anymore in the valley.

[She] shall be lying in the dust,
Cold and pale, the booty of death,
Or as the victim of her brothers
She shall sink down.

He left you here,
Beloved falcon, oh stay with me;
Flying hunter, in his stead
I now look after you.

[Perched] upon [my beloved's] hand,
I work you here into the edge of the carpet,
Your pinions are silver to look upon,
Golden your claws.

Falcon garb
Freyja once donned and over the land searched
For Odur in the north and in the south
Without growing weary.

If I were to borrow the pinions from you,
Falcon, of what help would they be to me?
For only death can bring me
Heavenly pinions!

Look into the waters
From my shoulder, my good hunter!
Never shall we catch sight of him,
No matter how much we may yearn to.

When I am dead,
[And] he returns, then this is my command:
If he thinks of the poor maiden with pain,
Then give him my heartfelt greetings.