Brœðr munu berjask ok at bönum verðask Munu systrungar sifjum spilla Hart er i heimi, hórdómr mikill Skeggjöld, skálmöld, skildir ru klofnir Vindöld, vargöld, að veröld steypisk Man engi maðr öðrum þyrma
Leika Míms synir, en mjötuðr kyndisk At inu gamka Gjallarhorni Hátt blæss Heimdallr, horn er á lopti Mælir Oðinn við Mims höfuð
Sal sér hon standa sólu fegra Gulli þakðan á Gimlé Þar skulu dyggvar dróttir byggja Ok um aldrdaga ynðis njóta
Brothers may fight and fell each other, May sisters' sons kinship stain; hard is in the home, whoredom severe; axe-age, sword-age, shields cloven, wind-age, wolf-age, ere the world falls; no men will each other spare.
Plays Mims sons, but fate awakes from the aged Gjallarhorni; load blows Heimdallr, the horn is raised; grind then Ódinn with Míms head.
She a hall see standing brighter than sun, with gold bedecked, in Gimlé; there shall good people household build, and in long time happiness enjoy.