Mead sparkled in the divine cup like stars,
With glory's sweet gold and words' endless draughts.
He was First of the skalds, a viking void of fears,
Who durst take a taste from the Cup of the Gods.
Time became submissive and magic filled the word,
Sweeter than Odin's mead, fresher than the wind.
Valkyries descended from heaven to earth
To glorify the skald along with fearless men.
"A prince doth hold me guest,
Praise be his due confess'd:
Of Odin's mead let draught
In Iceland now be quaff'd.
Laud bear I to the king,
Loudly his honour sing;
Silence I crave around,
My song of praise is found."
The warrior-skald's word about ancient battles
Has rattled on the earth more than a hundred years.
In the eternal hall of Valhalla, ancient Valhalla,
On the table there the lonely cup appears,
Amidst fearsome valkyries and glorious warriors
On the table there the lonely cup appears...
Dakota98asr
Kevin Rainbow
Grandipachus
Do, 22/12/2022 - 04:14
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