Den død og gjenfødsel av en guddom

The sorcerer scales a tree
finds Earth’s old wounds
Weeping and gangrenous,
cuts it down in the peace of autumns end,
with a reaving cuts out its heart.

The leaves of the twisted oak fall to the ground,
the sorcerer calls across
The leaves of the oak fall to the ground,

The growth is placed in frayed linen cloth,
the holy oneness oak spirit,
the sorcerer secured this world’s peace,
fertility, solar power in his grasp.

The leaves of the oak fall to the ground,
the sorcerer calls to dusk welken
The leaves of the oak fall to the ground,

The burning force of the sun;
there is the fertile sea of the Earth;
in the mighty wand of the sorcerer;
in the animated staff of the king.

Vegard M. Vindheim ©2012

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