Wolves in the temple we are,
Locked jaw to jaw in vile opposition,
Blemish the gifts of the gods
Heaving our poison in clear-water rivers
Vargar i véum
The black sword of Surtr is ours,
Brandished to scorch our way through the masses.
The false tongue of Loki is ours,
The lies that we tell prove our best allies
Words from the dead
The living won ́t listen
Fear - our deepest fears
Are written in this saga,
Seer - please talk to me
The impending doom is near
Forsworn and furtive we stand,
Patching up holes on the ships that seclude us,
Harvesting nails till the end,
The hour is nigh, the eagre ́s upon us
Langrækið hafið
We battered and savaged the norns,
Took over the wheel, entangling our life-threads,
Fire and steel make the law:
Each pays its toll or burns down to ashes
Words from the dead
The living won ́t listen
Fear - our deepest fears
Are written in this saga,
Seer - please talk to me
The impending doom is near.
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