Far travels the word from mouth
to mouth away from the source,
the ship goes astray.

What‘s in a name, the wanderer asks,
what is your nature, he wants to know
and so he goes to find a way.

He listens and he hears
the music of the dancers
in the wind – they have no feet.

He observes and he sees
the Holder of all things
before him – she has no arms.

With the water they move within movement -
the keepers of the original song,
and the singers of shivering voice.

The high note of Heimdallur‘s chant
becomes crystal in the silver arms
of Arianrhod – the lover of the son.

He, who comes back
after three nights with Hel
to be the ruler of the new world.

It is written in stone,
the tales of the dead,
and the knowledge of the high.

The teachings of the Gods
are difficult riddles for those
who know all answers.

Do you know enough yet?
Have you seen the light
from underneath the earth?

Have you seen the shadow resting
on the high crown from beyond
the heavens – who was ever there?

It is a momentum, a moment
in time, only a breath of
nature – of darkness a child.

It is the salt of the tears, that grow
the fruit bearing thorns – only sweet
for those who know how to bleed.

Listen to the wind.