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The cock crew in the morning, |
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I arose and went to the fields |
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Holding but a handful of seeds; |
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First I did sow then I did plough - |
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I prayed for rain to come down: |
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I prayed to Thor to burden the clouds |
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I looked up with hopes of a sky |
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Heavy, impregnated by a storm, |
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That would bring to life once more |
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My last handful of seeds; |
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I dreamt of the barely rich on the fields, |
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Would that I had a scythe |
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To reap all day long and thens ome more, |
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So as I could keep my storehouse filled |
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And put bread and ale upon my table... |
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Pray the Gods hear me, |
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Pray the wind bears my plea afar - |
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To the fields on high |
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Where immortals turn the soil |
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And blessings ripen like fruit |
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On the trees that guards vigilant |
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The fragrant orchards of Freyja... |
