Once, in ancient times, where the eldest of our fathers
Still have lived together with the wolfriding shadows
In the darkest and the deepest woods,
Where the mist had been the only sure feature,
Where the speech of sword had been the life …

… in this gloomiest past
They arised in a far and mythical forrest
Whilst the eclipse of the sun
at the secret funeral of wolf,
Mesmerizing the moment of eternal silence,
But they arised and overtook
With the mist and the shadows our ancient fathers
In frosty winters of the raven.

When the forrest-gods awake:
Now hear their cruel laugh
They stand above your soul
Superiors of eternity.

Still watch their proud walk
Their grim and misty trait
Whilst your forrest roaming
You can feel their cold and icy breath.

But they awoke and overtook
With the mist and the shadows
Our ancient fathers
In frosty and teutonic winters

15/Jan/2007, 17:27 Uhr , Gedichte, Nordische Fragmente ,