Eingehüllt in graue Wolken

Wrapped in clouds, as in a mantle,
 Now the great gods sleep together
And I hear them, bravely snoring,
 And we're having awful weather.

It grows wilder; winds are howling
 And the masts are bent like willows.
Who can curb the lordly tempest,
 Put a bridle on the billows!

I can't stop it, let it come then;
 Storms and terrors without number.
I will wrap my mantle round me,
 And, like any god, I'll slumber.