This poem is an addition to Níu Heimar and will appear as part of that poem if and when it is published in a book .
When the Nine Worlds have fallen to dust,
All is dead; destroyed.
The surviors, rightious and good,
Shall dwell in the golden hall of Gimlé
On the south side of Ásgarðr.
Moved for safety, some say,
Southward and upward
End long through the second and
Ever upward to the wind wide blue third Heaven,
Far from fire and death,
Where, ’tis said, only the Ljósálfar still dwell.
Ljósálfar = l-juice-al-far
Ásgarðr = As-garth
ð = th in “father”