Still my spirit and black my eyes, finis for to know
Tear out my tongue, cast it into the fires below
Raise up a cairn 'neath the old rowan tree
Carrion for crows let my heart ever be.
Trouble, it came as a hymn, as a lay, as sweet as siren-song
And after its rare and bewitching refrain ever shall I long
I'll follow it down to the depths of the sea
Bound to Rán's hall shall my heart ever be.
O, into the shadows I go, o'er the fells!
O, where burn the bale-pyres, where toll the bells...
Vandræði, it found me in the night
Knew my name and spoke it aright
In raiment gilt and argent bright
Betaken of a holy light
In guise so comely fared my doom!
And beckoned me off into the gloom
I could not have known...
Ashen gallows await, let me hang o'er the wells of fate
Let this rope be hallowed on high, ere dawn reddens the sky
Lest I stare into the sun, and woe, become undone.
(Still my spirit and black my eyes
I fell to my knees and exulted the skies
Memory, the cruelest of torments now seems
A thrall in its court shall my heart ever be.)
Strange... this magic which hath unmade me...
O, trouble, it came as fair as a mead in spring!
O, trouble, it came as fell as raven's wings...
I stared into the sun, and woe, became undone.
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