I was just reading Völuspá stanza 41:
Fylliz fiǫrvi feigra manna,
rýðr ragna siǫt rauðom dreyra.
Svǫrt verða sólskin of sumor eptir,
veðr ǫll válynd. Vitoð ér enn, eða hvat?
And stanza 57:
Sól tér sortna, sígr fold í mar,
hverfa af himni heiðar stjörnur;
geisar eimi ok aldrnari,
leikr hár hiti við himin sjalfan.
Did you catch what the Völva prophesied?
Here, let me English it for you:
It sates itself on the life-blood of fated men,
paints red the powers’ homes with crimson gore.
Black become the Sun’s beams in the summers that follow,
weathers all treacherous. Do you still seek to know? And what?
The sun turns black, earth sinks in the sea,
The hot stars down from heaven are whirled;
Fierce grows the steam and the life-feeding flame,
Till fire leaps high about heaven itself.