I Tors Lysskær grønnes Kaos ved Myriadens Stiernehær I Menneskens Huus, slaaes nu Rod, som en Gave fra Promethevs;
Jeg priser dig, Mælkebøtte Skyll nu over mig mod Plage og Sygdom Spir og gro, af Lysets Ve, ligesom Fanden selv
Op med Helvedsmagt, Skærsild gul, Op!, op!, i al din Pragt; blot slig Skønhed og blot hin alene kan stadig vares ved
Vi priser dig, Mælkebøtte Skyll nu over os mod Hunger og Nød Spir og gro, af Lysets Føde, ligesom Fanden selv
For trædet Skanken og forsmædelig Fod staaer du lige ranken Først skærsildgul, saa kiøldenshvid, ligesaa i Iordens Bul
Under hvide Vinger bæres, i enske Evighedens Traa, gennem Stængelen Mælken gæres til, tusind Diævelyngel smaae
Selv mod Ædder og Hakke og mod Tidseliern vil du ei sakke, men du, til evig Tid, skal staae som Vink til Menneskens lid
Mod takked Rand, mod Løvens Tand, skal Sinder knuges; af Skærsilds Blom drives Lutring, drives Liv, saa Freden holdes tom
Under hvide Vinger bæres, i enske Evighedens Traa, gennem Stængelen Mælken gæres til, tusind Diævelyngel smaae
I Kosmos, en Streg, Ordenen bugnes deraf --et Kaoskræfters Pek: i Vansindets Have forvolder Udkrudtet Tugten sig at tave
Jeg priser dig, Mælkebøtte Skyll nu over mig mod Plage og Sygdom Spir og gro, af Lysets Ve, ligesom Fanden selv
The Dandelion
In Thor's glare Chaos sprouts By the myriad's star-army In human's house It takes roots Like a gift from Prometheus
I praise you, dandelion Pour over me Against torment and sickness Grow and thrive From the light's woe Like the devil itself
Up with the infernal power, Purgatory's gold, Up! up! in all your splendour Only such beauty And only that alone Can last forever
We praise you, dandelion Pour over us Against hunger and need Grow and thrive From the light's nourishment Like the devil itself
Because of the treading shank And the ignominious foot You nevertheless stay erected First purgatory's gold So cold and white In the earth's bole
Under white wings you're carried In the wished eternity's desire Through the stalk the milk is fermented For thousand little devil-spawn
Against poison and pickax And against thistle You will not abate But you forever Shall stand as a sign For the human's suffering
Against jagged edge Against the leaf's prong Mind will be wrung By purgatory's bloom Purification will be driven, life will be driven So peace will be kept empty
Under white wings you're carried In the wished eternity's desire Through the stalk the milk is fermented For thousand little devil-spawn
In cosmos, a stroke Hence order bulged A joke of the Chaos forces In the ocean of madness The weed causes damage To tear up the chastisement
I praise you, dandelion Pour over me Against torment and sickness Grow and thrive From the light's woe Like the devil itself