Baldur [English translation]

The memory hurts, I remember it well,

the loss which caused my anger.

The marauding gang which crawled over gravel,

the group dragged my peace to Hel1.

Odin, who awaits, I entrust with my family.

Yes, I was tormented and withered and dumb,

frenziedly ran over the heath.

I was half-mad when I swore revenge.

I looked on my valley, said farewell and left,

crippled, frostbitten, but lead by Thor.

High was the heath,

hunger and darkness,

but onward I walked.

Long were the graves,

little my strength,

when I took my steps.

The creature was cut.

Screams of the wounded,

when Hel finally retreated.

Certainly, in the spring,

yelps and cries

carry from a cairn to Baldur's grave.

Never will the damage I took be understood,

the cries of panic and the misery.

Wicked ones, you wilfully broke their bones,

my children no longer warm me in the autumn.

I want to hide my sorrows, put my faith in Týr.

Asgard lead me to you again,

showed an exhausted fool the way.

I dreamed of the warg, of his deadly image,

carefully hidden where the sun never shines.

Cunning flowed from Loki to me.

The boiling hot blood

streams downwards,

as Vör2 visits us.

A loud sound

of chocking and gurgling

as the body is torn to bits.

For a long time, the corpses

lie on the stone.

Then the gods bury us,

dead young men,

our bones buried under cairns.

And I knew the strength,

as I left my home.

I accepted [their] loyalties,

I rode, dependable in charge.

You were wounded and hurt,

your endurance destroyed.3

In Pagan hands,

you have found your place.

Thor's hammer and his stubbornness

unleash thunder which can't be endured.

Of these blood-ties

I shall be in charge.

A viking on a spring evening

calls valiantly to Odin.

The gates of the halls open to him,

copy these poems.

Baldur is the farmer's name,

who is tied to these poems.

I finally feel

my sins drawn from me,

now the paths appear.

I found peace

and saved myself.

Now my pains are silenced.

My heartbeat slows,

Sleipnir4 wakes me.

Heimdallr5 greets me.

Valhalla6awakens,

the people accept me

and so does all of the world of gods.

Running against heroes with shields,

men rise again at night.

If pessimism should fight for power,

it shall be shrugged off.

So onwards, to a Heiðrún's mead.7

drinking horns full, we raise them and drink.

We have Sæhrímnir8 to eat,

no-one's bowl empty.

Be welcomed.

Welcome, viking.

Welcome, battle-starter.

Welcome friend.

A hero has carried his bones,

Baldur now gazes out in the spring.

A constant stature and his footstep is light.

He died with honour.

1. Hel is both a place in Norse mythology where the dead are sent to be tormented, and the goddess in charge of this realm and the torture of its inhabitants2. A Norse goddess, associated with wisdom.3. Lit. 'in pieces'.4. A god in the form of an eight-legged horse. A child of Loki and the steed of Odin.5. One of the principle guards/ gods of Asgard.6. The great hall of Asgard where much of the drinking mead and partying/ preparing for the apocalypse happens.7. Heiðrún is a goat which makes mead for the einherjar, the fallen heroes of Asgard.8. A beast in Norse mythology which is eaten daily by the gods and fallen heroes of Asgard.

• Artist:Skálmöld
• Album:Baldur