Óthinn opened my eyes
to rings and necklaces,
to the things men own, things the wise know,
to prophecy,
I saw more and more,
looking out over all the worlds.
I saw Valkyrjur,
saddled all around,
ready to ride
to the homes of the gods.
Skuld held a shield,
and Skǫgul another,
Gunnr, Hildr, Gǫndul,
and Geirskǫgul.
Now are counted
the Valkyrjur,
ready to ride
to the earth, the Valkyrjur.
I saw Baldr,
the bloodied victim,
Óthinn’s son,
resigned to his fate,
there stood
the mistletoe,
grown slender and fair
high above the plain.
That tree,
which seemed harmless,
caused a terrible sorrow
when Hǫthr took a shot.
Baldr’s brother
was born soon thereafer,
Óthinn’s son; he took vengeance
when one night old.
He had never washed his hands
nor combed his hair
when he put Baldr’s slayer
on the funeral pyre.
Frigg wept
in Fensalir
for the woe of Valhǫll.
Have you learned enough yet, Allfather?