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Land-Song


Wyndreth Berginsdottir            


A Review of TÝR’s CD: “Land”

These are the songs our Old Ones sang
the sea beneath, restless in bed-barrows,
waiting, longing, warding. Listen, all:
lore-learning lives in lines new-measured.

O Sons of Odin, what have you wakened?

Wild and wise-eyed, willful, dauntless
audacious men of merit mighty--
Ravens rise, wolves run to your voices!
Who set such songs sounding in your blood?

Winter’s breath-blade, biting wind-scythe
stings salt tears to tight-narrowed eyes.
The frost-ríma’s sung for one who listens
even while wishing for open water.

Summer's hammer storm-heavy, hard,
drives deep the nails of Njord into waiting
waves. Harsh hardship bear-hearted makes
worthy men upon ocean-mane raging.

O Sons of Odin, what have you wakened?

Fine song-fire from your fingers flashes!
Gifts of voice-gold, you give freehanded!
Bragi blesses the bold sound-skalds, you
Tyr-born warband taking the song-road!

The brightest gods, they hear you, listen;
speak your names seated at mead-bench
And mark they this: that soon, O Sons
of Odin, no ocean or land can hope
to fully hold all your far-faring fame!

O Sons of Odin, what you have wakened!


©2008 k. kahan




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