Elske miste. It was sad, but it was true.
Love ( Elske ) had lain down his weapons, for he had danced — and, dance is fighting to music — the last waltz ( valsen ) that he was sure that he would. Love walked away from the ballroom, leaving an empty floor where none dared ventured. The floor ( golvet ), bare now as Love walked away from himself through both oaken doors ( eikne døra ) with sigils of companionship, shivered in its abandoned cold.
Who ( kven ) would sweep the floor with strides of caring? Who ( kven )would light the candles who ( som ) now dropped their self-made bodily tears across the dark stone ( mørke steinane)? Who would yell across the room in introduction of fair beauties?
Now, there was darkness (No, OR Nå, der var mørker ), and there was frustration. An empty howl rolled through the benighted room.
Love had left. Love had lost a room, but the room had lost all life.
Love would travel to find a new place, but the room would await Love forever. The room may wait in vain, but what else could the room do? What distance could Love put between a ballroom of liveliness, and his own shaking body?
As Love walked, he walked the Earth ( Medan gjekk Elske, hans gjekk jorda ). He walked until he found himself in front of an oaken door. It was then Love heard a shout of introduction as two doors flung open, and he was faced with himself. He would have this dance, and he would have this warmth. The floor would be swept, and the candles would cry their self-made bodily tears across the lit ( lyse ) stone who had seen so many dances that it knew that it would hold; the stone would hold; vokslys skulle gråt; Elske skulle dans igjen.*
*This was the hardest to translate. Conditional tenses are my weakness in most languages.