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I. Your last, 1 At length Through the Of my sleuthless 2 soul, Just as I glimpse Briefly dark Atop a far hill Like a ship hove Behind a swell Is lost to the sight Of one doomed Though ever stealthily With skills by you honed, You, Wolf, of all hunters Are most cunning game, through harsh lands To the icy heights With a mocking laugh I strive to match Though woe-laden, Fire-gutted, By the heavy storm Of sorrow like lead, The grim birthright Thurses like hail Hindering each step Up the ever-rising Thrilled by the hunt, With eagerness, Oski, Though you seem to shun To run to ground, Is less hard, surely, Sly shade, And to overtake you So long years And weary warring And lulled by the wind I sink down to lie Your wolfish eye, Your awful beauty Clear as day, With sleep everlasting I sweetly Your gift With your breath And the claws of my foes As into the long darkness I awaken clasped Chill and strong Hard as the bones Is the iron mail On which my head rests, Over your heart-coffer 4 As Death; Your nearness, Your love, Than any man's In Your wintry bosom And this flesh of frost Melts away II. Your wiles wooed But no crafty knot Of wheedling words For Your hood The truth of your soul O Maker of worlds Who dire deeds Pangs suffered Gainer of mead, To wights of worth Whose every work First of Heroes, I see who You are Bound forever In love only, And by no pledge But In ravening Hroptr, Safe haven finding Where soul blends Awakening Beginning, Svafner, In death's bitter kiss, In Nikuþ's bond Hearthless, Alone no longer The swiftest God I rise with you To sport aloft Drunken with your fire, Sears as runes Dizzying my mind Teaching my tongue III. My eyes open, Through the night; Warm light A weathered cloak A goodly fire Over it roasting On a rock-harrow Your gifts, All that when nigh Forestalls Wod, to your outcast Strange gifts In whom you kindle Or bliss Fostering my frame I stumble Overcome Away in the forest You turn to look An aching hunger Slaked only, Your laugh rings Ravens croak, Above where you walk, Hope that Dream To wend That is the steepest, To Asgard: Ever pitted, And my hero's For no dross In the sun-hot Where Sigtyr shapes Thence my soul arises, To the shining shelf, A weapon ready |
lone Wanderer, has led me wild woodlands where you slip away your gaunt frame by dusk's light that soon hides you, hull-down of the swan's path, at sun's setting to drowning. stalked by me with help of your sooth, the heart and the wit, keen and wary, leading me always, of etin-ranges, luring me onward. your mighty stride, leeched of strength, of feeling bereft, swagging 3 above me loneliness like ice, of Bölverk's beguiled, in thought's hall of the harrowing climb road behind you, by thirst driven, ever following, my shadowing. or grasp the wind than to hold you, Shapeshifter, seems only a dream. of yearning weaken my limbs, to long slumber, in a snowy bank. your wry and bitter smile, that binds my heart though down into darkness shutting my eyes slip away at last, and my going one: my body I flee, close on slim air I dance with Death. by winter arms as carved stone, of Hliðsjalf's heights on the icy breast held softly by hands as cold but dearer than life Nikuþ, and more living Lord of ghosts, of Middle-Earth; the warmth of the sun, in your fire soon as mist in the morning. many women to Your arms, did you need twine to win my heart: hides not from me shielded from most, wondrously wrought, dared for weal, to see runes, Gield-Meter, 5 wisdom gifting, wards off doom; Father of All and stand in awe, by the fetter hight love. offering no oath, plighting my troth who rightly is feared from all that is harmful, with Bestower-of-souls, to awareness in your song of ending: the breath of life, needed freedom, I find a home in you. nor lagging behind on steep ways in raven-guise in the sun's hall, that flames of verse into my Skald's heart, with giddy madness, truth's song. ethe comes: I have lived new dawn is breaking waxes: is wound about me, against frost is laid, a roebuck haunch a horn of fine mead Grimner is nether-dark frozen sleep. you offer mede, to this grim soul kindred madness unbidden, when in fit or dazed staggering, by Oðroerir. 6 faring farther, at my longing; eased by no food, Sath, by you. aloft: roused, crowding the trees Wanderer, heartens me, that draws me onward that woeful road straightest way a gainst fell foes to the pith pared, heart hallowed; dare stay smithy his sword-children. awed, free, the stead of Hár, for right use. |
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