It's Still Life

And this I also know.

The power of gods and foe
Shall swallow with ice-cold jaw.

Gáttir allar, apr gangi fråm,

’tis old lore to the ear.
’tis a wits-word.
’tis ever wisest the Weaver

Of word-keep and secret, she
Who is called Hearth-Warm, she

Of fated lip that speaks in silence.
Once and again. She who

wanders wide for dwelling
Over rimy and by fell.

sas a bröndum skal

’tis old lore to the ear.
’tis a wits-word.
Ever wisest the Weaver, she who
Sits within, cold to the knee and

Blinded by sun’s fame. Happy is she
Who lies on another’s breast.

Ef þů átt aðra kistu fyrir míg

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This is the continuation of the series of Found Poetry sourced from Ragnarök, The Elder or Poetica Edda, Commonly known as Sæmund’s Edda, a study of Teutonic Mythology and the elemental powers in chaos, Translation Series Vol. II, .st. 20-.24/47, 54.–See Bdr., st. No. 10. pg 59-63 (Ragnarök), released under the terms of CCO 1.0, Universal Public Domain. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Images and poetry ©️Misky 2006-2024.