The sound of a cat’s footfall,
and the beard of a woman,
the roots of a mountain,
and the sinews of a bear,
the breath of a fish,
and the spittle of a bird;
it’s Gleipnir binding.
The sound of a cat’s footfall,
and the beard of a woman,
the roots of a mountain,
and the sinews of a bear,
the breath of a fish,
and the spittle of a bird;
it’s Gleipnir binding.
Tyr raised his hand,
to offer his hand,
Tyr raised his hand,
to offer his hand.
In Fenrir’s jaws,
he lost his right hand.
The sound of a cat’s footfall,
and the beard of a woman,
the roots of a mountain,
and the sinews of a bear,
the breath of a fish,
and the spittle of a bird;
it’s Gleipnir binding.
The sound of a cat’s footfall,
and the beard of a woman,
the roots of a mountain,
and the sinews of a bear,
the breath of a fish,
and the spittle of a bird;
it’s Gleipnir binding.
In Fenrir’s jaws,
he lost his right hand.
Tyr raised his hand,
to offer his hand,
Tyr raised his hand,
to offer his hand.
Since then the wolf howls,
saliva which runs from his mouth
forms the river called hope.
There he will lie until Ragnarok.