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"Away from his arms
''Written in fornyrðislag and ljóðaháttr by [[Magnús hvalmagi]].''
in the open field
A man should fare not a foot;
For never he knows
when the need for a spear
Shall arise on the distant road."


These are the words
"Please rewrite from the point of view of Magnus."
of the wisest god.
-A smart-ass apprentice
Safe from most harm
will Hangi keep you.
But unseen are some
who seek your end.
I speak these spells,
to spare your guts.


In the yard-hawk
Challenge accepted.
and haste-dragon
lurks a loathsome monster.
It wants a meal
of white metal
and belches out brimstone.


Deep the ash-roots
Deeper is Hell
Deepest the mind of Mimir.
But not too deep
digs another foe,
hiding from air and eyes.


A thief I caught,
"Away from his arms<br>
Caged like a beast,
in the open field<br>
his trouble trapped with him.
A man should fare not a foot;<br>
But Egil's kin
For never he knows<br>
the cage will seek,
when the need for a spear<br>
and feast on farm's bounty.
Shall arise on the distant road."<br>
<br>
These are the words<br>
of the wisest god.<br>
Safe from most harm<br>
will Hangi keep you.<br>
But unseen are some<br>
who seek your end.<br>
I speak these spells,<br>
to spare your guts.<br>
<br>
In the yard-hawk<br>
and haste-dragon<br>
lurks a loathsome monster.<br>
It wants a meal<br>
of white metal<br>
and belches out brimstone.<br>
<br>
Deep the ash-roots<br>
Deeper is Hell<br>
Deepest the mind of Mimir.<br>
But not too deep<br>
digs another foe,<br>
hiding from air and eyes.<br>
<br>
A thief I caught,<br>
Caged like a beast,<br>
his trouble trapped with him.<br>
But Egil's kin<br>
the cage will seek,<br>
and feast on farm's bounty.<br>
<br>
The Hanging One<br>
wishes to breathe -<br>
a corpse craving the wind.<br>
I know another<br>
that never breathes,<br>
and bloats from breath hidden.<br>
<br>
To Thyng we ride,<br>
to think and rule<br>
and feast with friends scattered.<br>
An enemy waits,<br>
winding through hands,<br>
till feast is famine-stricken.<br>
<br>
Hear the spear-clash<br>
Heed the battle-cry<br>
Ruin the rowan of warfare.<br>
Lop off his head -<br>
still Loptr is plotting,<br>
laying a trap for travelers.<br>


The Hanging One
These words I weave,<br>
wishes to breathe -
warning of danger.<br>
a corpse craving the wind.
A man should be mighty -<br>
I know another
as much we know -<br>
that never breathes,
but strength is fleeting,<br>
and bloats from breath hidden.
and favor also.<br>
Keep wits always,<br>
and keep your life.<br>
<br>


To Thyng we ride,
[[Category:Poems and Songs]]
to think and rule
and feast with friends scattered.
An enemy waits,
winding through hands,
till feast is famine-stricken.
 
Hear the spear-clash
Heed the battle-cry
Ruin the rowan of warfare.
Lop off his head -
still Loptr is plotting,
laying a trap for travelers.
 
These words I weave,
warning of danger.
A man should be mighty -
as much we know -
but strength is fleeting,
and favor also.
Keep wits always,
and keep your life.

Revision as of 10:27, 16 January 2019

Written in fornyrðislag and ljóðaháttr by Magnús hvalmagi.

"Please rewrite from the point of view of Magnus." -A smart-ass apprentice

Challenge accepted.


"Away from his arms
in the open field
A man should fare not a foot;
For never he knows
when the need for a spear
Shall arise on the distant road."

These are the words
of the wisest god.
Safe from most harm
will Hangi keep you.
But unseen are some
who seek your end.
I speak these spells,
to spare your guts.

In the yard-hawk
and haste-dragon
lurks a loathsome monster.
It wants a meal
of white metal
and belches out brimstone.

Deep the ash-roots
Deeper is Hell
Deepest the mind of Mimir.
But not too deep
digs another foe,
hiding from air and eyes.

A thief I caught,
Caged like a beast,
his trouble trapped with him.
But Egil's kin
the cage will seek,
and feast on farm's bounty.

The Hanging One
wishes to breathe -
a corpse craving the wind.
I know another
that never breathes,
and bloats from breath hidden.

To Thyng we ride,
to think and rule
and feast with friends scattered.
An enemy waits,
winding through hands,
till feast is famine-stricken.

Hear the spear-clash
Heed the battle-cry
Ruin the rowan of warfare.
Lop off his head -
still Loptr is plotting,
laying a trap for travelers.

These words I weave,
warning of danger.
A man should be mighty -
as much we know -
but strength is fleeting,
and favor also.
Keep wits always,
and keep your life.