RAUD RAMME
I ride my horse of oak on Jörmungandr’s roof. I ride on howl and croak on white and windy hoof.
I ride my horse of oak, carry sverð and gandr. I ride on howl and croak into Ægir’s þunder.
I ride my horse of oak, I carry ash and elm. I ride on howl and croak—ðe dragon at my helm.
I ride my horse of oak—give my blood to Njorð. I ride on howl and croak, I ride from fjord to fjord.
YGGR
In ðe name of Yggr—by my last day! In ðe name of Hárr—by ðe men I slay! In ðe name of Yggr—my þread is þin! In ðe name of Hárr—let ðe fight begin!
In ðe name of Yggr—by ðe women þree! In ðe name of Hárr—by ðeir faiþ in me! In ðe name of Yggr—in a þick black fur! In ðe name of Hárr—like we all once were!
In ðe name of Yggr—by ðe acid lake! In ðe name of Hárr—by ðe hungry drake! In ðe name of Yggr—I was born to die! In ðe name of Hárr—and I don’t ask why!
In ðe name of Yggr, in ðe name of Hárr—I shall fight ðe draugar from Naglfar!
ÓSKÓREIÐ
Ravens eat ðe blurry eye of ðe Viking left to die, wið his sword in frozen hand—daughters mine shall walk ðe land.
Ravens eat and solemn croak, as I listen, Old grey cloak. Blood is running yet again—daughters mine shall choose ðe slain.
Ravens eat and guide ðe way for my army—Óskóreið. Haunting are ðey, branch to root—watch ðem ride on Dísablót!
Ravens eat where brave men fell—pain of arrows, not of Hel. And did you fight from birþ to deaþ, daughters mine will guide your breaþ.
BLÓT
One eye watching, one eye dead—see ðe deep well in my head! Seið and tell me, if you can, ðe fate of every mortal man.
One eye watching, one eye dead—see ðe deep well in my head! Bring me mead and I shall speak, but only to ðe ones who seek.
One eye watching, one eye dead—see ðe deep well in my head! Seek ðe wisdom rarely heard, listen to my every word.
One eye watching, one eye dead—see ðe deep well in my head! Oaþs are broken at a cost, wisdom grows in every loss.
MÍMIR
You shall see all living die.
Mímir, say, what must I give to see ðe fate of all who live? Vinr Míms, give me your eye, and you shall see all living die.
You shall see all living die.
Mímir, say, I give my eye—now let me see how I shall die. Vinr Míms—in Ámsvartnir, first you bind Hróðvitnir…
First you bind Hróðvitnir…
FENRISÚLFR
I will hunt you, I will kill you, I will eat you—Bölverkr! Son of Bestla, Son of Borr, you are much—but I am more!
Naströnd’s draugar know your breaþ. Your betrayal is your deaþ. Son of Bestla, Son of Borr, you are much—but I am more!
Niðhögg chews on mighty Ash, I will chew on Grímnir’s flesh! Son of Bestla, Son of Borr, you are much—but I am more!
When my children eat ðe sun, Sviðurr, know what you have done.
VAFÞRÚÐNIR
Gagnráðr? Gagnráðr?
Were you born from Ymir’s feet, Gagnráðr? Greeted at Surtr’s seat, Gagnráðr? Did you cross ðe Gjallarbrú, Gagnráðr? Did Élivágar flow þru you, Gagnráðr?
Gagnráðr? Gagnráðr?
Now let’s eat and drink to you, Gagnráðr—who come to me and talk like you, Gagnráðr—and wrestle Elli wið your wit, Gagnráðr. Now drink my mead and envy it, Gagnráðr.
Gagnráðr? Gagnráðr?
Ðere will be a day of woe, Gagnráðr—a day you saw and þink you know, Gagnráðr. But tell me, Stranger, what’s your part, Gagnráðr? Who brought hate to Fenris-Hárr, Gagnráðr?
Gagnráðr? Gagnráðr?
FÓSTBRÓÐIR
Son for son! Remember ðis, when you mourn, Fóstbróðir: A broken oaþ was also sworn.
Son for son! I had sons, who too were born, Fóstbróðir, in powerful and mighty form.
Son for son! Hel will rise at Surtr’s dawn, Fóstbróðir—your son sits with her, Scorned!
MIÐGARÐSORMR
Hear me, Jörmungandr, speak—waiting, watching, in ðe deep. Dark like tar and bright like gold, venom like ðe twilight mould.
Lóðurr, cutter of ðe wheat—waiting, watching, in ðe deep. On your tongue and in your eye is ðe truþ and yet ðe lie.
Vànagandr, we shall meet—waiting, watching, in ðe deep. Broðer mine in heaðer bloom, howling at ðe running moon.
Hel, below in somber sleep—waiting, watching, in ðe deep. Sister mine on solemn þrone, dyed in blood and carved in bone.
Angrboða, from your keep—waiting, watching, in ðe deep. Flesh to flesh, one of þree, you swore ðe oaþ of life to me.
URÐ
Þreads are short, þreads are long—none is right, none is wrong. Count your winters at each end, Urð will cut, Skuld will mend.
Þreads are short, þreads are long—none is right, none is wrong. Hang ðe þief, help your friend, Urð will cut, Skuld will mend.
Þreads are short, þreads are long—none is right, none is wrong. Verðandi will fold and bend, Urð will cut, Skuld will mend.
SÍGYN
Weep, weep, my love, weep my love, while ðe snake is frozen. Weep, weep, my love, for ðis life we were born and chosen.
Weep, weep, my love, weep my love, for ðe bowl is shallow. Weep, weep, my love, for ðis life we are twins of sorrow.
Weep, weep, my love, weep my love, close your eyes, remember. Weep, weep, my love—for my love, for my love, surrender.
ÚTGARÐA-LÓKI
Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki, what is ðe name of ðe wiðering tree? Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki, I have a body—Óðinn has þree!
Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki, what is ðe power of mighty old Þórr? Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki, Jörmungandr is ready for war!
Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki, what is ðe secret of misteltoe? Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki—Baldr is dead in deep red snow!
Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki—dying is easy, why do we woe? Útgarða-Lóki, Útgarða-Lóki—dying is easy, Hel is below.
HVERGELMIR
I will speak, and ðe wise will hear, of ðe hungry snake in Hvergelmir. In ðe boiling lake, in ðe frozen sea is ðe oldest root of ðe oldest tree.
I will speak, and ðe wise will hear, of his chewing fangs in Hvergelmir, where liars hang—starved and shamed—in ðe shore of corpses in Niflheim.
I will speak, and ðe wise will hear, of ðe icy waves from Hvergelmir. From ðe frozen graves all living came, when ðey fell into Muspelheim.
STRÍÐ
March to Asgard, þursar! Burn it all to ashes! Spit on Midgard, þursar! Win ðe Bifrost clashes!
Win ðe Bifrost clashes!
March to Asgard, þursar! Wipe it all wið fire! Spit on Midgard, þursar! Rise like fire, higher!
Rise like fire, higher!
ÞUNRAZMÁL
Looking at me? Jötnar? Jötnar? Have you names, Ymir’s lice? Talking to me? Jötnar? Jötnar? Fading fire and melting ice!
Pointing at me? Jötnar? Jötnar? I will break your hands and feet! Do you know me? Jötnar? Jötnar? I’m ðe hammer of cold and heat!
Running away now? Jötnar? Jötnar? Hrungnir fell and spilled his brain! Scared to fight me? Jötnar? Jötnar? Geirröðr died in shame!
Come back! Strike me! Jötnar! Jötnar! Greet ðe groom from Þrymr’s hall! Never come back! Jötnar! Jötnar! I will strike and kill you all!
NIÐAFJÖLLSGLÓÐ
When day breaks over Niðafjöll—Sólardóttir, rise from Sköll! In ðe blood of heaðer and grain grow no more ðe nails of slain.
When day breaks over Niðafjöll—Sólardóttir, rise from Sköll! Þursar, æsir, shameful, brave, sleep in high grass on ðis day.
When day breaks over Niðafjöll—Sólardóttir, rise from Sköll! On Vígríðr in flame and snow, eagles carve up high and low.
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