Ásmegin
Arv
1. Fandens Mælkebøtte
I Tors Lysskær
grønnes Kaos
ved Myriadens Stiernehær
I Menneskens Huus,
slaaes nu Rod,
som en Gave fra Promethevs;
Jeg priser dig, Mælkebøtte
Skyll nu over mig
mod Plage og Sygdom
Spir og gro,
af Lysets Ve,
ligesom Fanden selv
Op med Helvedsmagt,
Skærsild gul,
Op!, op!, i al din Pragt;
blot slig Skønhed
og blot hin alene
kan stadig vares ved
Vi priser dig, Mælkebøtte
Skyll nu over os
mod Hunger og Nød
Spir og gro, af Lysets Føde,
ligesom Fanden selv
For trædet Skanken
og forsmædelig Fod
staaer du lige ranken
Først skærsildgul,
saa kiøldenshvid,
ligesaa i Iordens Bul
Under hvide Vinger bæres,
i enske Evighedens Traa,
gennem Stængelen Mælken gæres
til, tusind Diævelyngel smaae
Selv mod Ædder og Hakke
og mod Tidseliern
vil du ei sakke,
men du, til evig Tid,
skal staae som Vink
til Menneskens lid
Mod takked Rand,
mod Løvens Tand,
skal Sinder knuges;
af Skærsilds Blom
drives Lutring, drives Liv,
saa Freden holdes tom
Under hvide Vinger bæres,
i enske Evighedens Traa,
gennem Stængelen Mælken gæres
til, tusind Diævelyngel smaae
I Kosmos, en Streg,
Ordenen bugnes deraf
--et Kaoskræfters Pek:
i Vansindets Have
forvolder Udkrudtet
Tugten sig at tave
Jeg priser dig, Mælkebøtte
Skyll nu over mig
mod Plage og Sygdom
Spir og gro,
af Lysets Ve,
ligesom Fanden selv
[English translation:]
The Dandelion1
In Thor's glare2
Chaos sprouts
By the myriad's star-army
In human's house
It takes roots
Like a gift from Prometheus
I praise you, dandelion
Pour over me
Against torment and sickness
Grow and thrive
From the light's woe
Like the devil itself
Up with the infernal power,
Purgatory's gold,
Up! up! in all your splendour
Only such beauty
And only that alone
Can last forever
We praise you, dandelion
Pour over us
Against hunger and need
Grow and thrive
From the light's nourishment
Like the devil itself
Because of the treading shank
And the ignominious foot
You nevertheless stay erected
First purgatory's gold
So cold and white
In the earth's bole
Under white wings you're carried
In the wished eternity's desire
Through the stalk the milk is fermented
For thousand little devil-spawn
Against poison and pickax
And against thistle
You will not abate
But you forever
Shall stand as a sign
For the human's suffering
Against jagged edge
Against the leaf's prong
Mind will be wrung
By purgatory's bloom
Purification will be driven, life will be driven
So peace will be kept empty
Under white wings you're carried
In the wished eternity's desire
Through the stalk the milk is fermented
For thousand little devil-spawn
In cosmos, a stroke
Hence order bulged
A joke of the Chaos forces
In the ocean of madness
The weed causes damage
To tear up the chastisement
I praise you, dandelion
Pour over me
Against torment and sickness
Grow and thrive
From the light's woe
Like the devil itself
2. Hiertebrand
Jeg vil rive hende i Filler
om hun ei giver ham til mig
klore hendes Øine
saa han igen kun vil se mig;
hendes Blod skal koges tørt
i en Gryde paa hedensk Ild
Intet af hendes skiøre Krop
vil mere føle dig
Jeg hader hin vakre Siæl hun haver
Intet Had i sig
Om hun atter vil hiemsøge mig
intet Frygt jeg haver
Husbondens Ælsk bliver til Had fra mig
jo flere du vinder, jo mere hader jeg dig
Skiødesløs og yndig ingen Fregne paa din Kind
Paa dine natlige Stier skal du snart tørre ind
Alle Mænd din Barm vil have
De ere troldbundne af dig
Dit lyse Haar bølger sig i Vinden
naar du danser rundt i Hei
I mit Hierte brinder du
findes ei Had i dig
Dit rene Blik vil svinde hen
-din Siæl dør i Nat
Dit Blod rinder paa min Kind
Dine Læmmer rives af
Dat Haar skal nappes eet for eet
I denne Nat ditt haan skal ende
Jeg ofrer nu dit Liv
for alle sultne Skiøgers Lyster
Ingen vil ei mere føles numne
af dit pathetiske uskyldige Smil
Du skal brinde
Du skal visne hen
Din Krop skal raadne bort
til ingen mindes dig
Jeg kutter op dit Bryst
grafser ud af din skiønne Levning
Hiertet banker, raskt som Hiort
til det knuses mellem Steen;
dine Indvolde bliver spredt paa Fieldet
-sultne Dyr vil komme hist
De vil renske dit Væsen bort,
og fierne dig fra mit Aasyns vrede
I sorte Nætter saa haaber jeg
du hiemsøger mig,
da skal jeg vise dig hvad
du giorde mod mig
Alle Mænd din Barm vil have
De ere troldbundne af dig
Dit lyse Haar bølger sig i Vinden
naar du danser rundt i Hei
Jeg haver et Snev af dig i mig,
men du fortrænger det
Ingen ser mig i Skyggen bag dig
Din Lykke spiser mig
Jeg vil ei længre falmes ved siden af dig
Sol skal skinne igen
Sit rene Blik vil svinde hen
-din siæl dør i Nat
[English translation:]
Heart Burning3
I will tear her apart
If she won't give him4 to me
Claw her eyes
So he won't be able to see me anymore
Her blood shall be boiled dry
In a pot on a pagan fire
Nothing of her brittle body
Will feel you anymore
I hate the beautiful soul she has
No hate in it
If she wants to haunt me again
I will not have fear
The husband's love turns into hate for me
Indeed the more you gain the more I hate you
Negligent and lovely no winkle on your cheek
On your nocturnal paths you shall soon parch
Every man wants to have your bosom
They are spellbound by you
Your fair hair wave in the wind
When you dance around on the moor
In my heart you burn
There is no hate in you
Your pure gaze will vanish
Your soul shall die tonight
Your blood runs on my cheek
You limbs are torn
Your hair shall be snatched one by one
Tonight your mockery shall end
I sacrifice your life
For all the hungry harlots' desires
Nobody shall feel anymore numb
By your pathetic innocent smile
You shall burn
You shall vanish
Your body will rot away
Until nobody will remind you
I slash your breast
Paw at your fair remains
Heart beats, fast like a deer
Until it is broken between the stones
Your bowels are spread on the mountain
Hungry animals will come here
They shall weed away your being
And remove from the wrath of my face
In black nights I hope
You haunt me
So I shall show you what
You've done to me
Every man wants to have your bosom
They are spellbound by you
Your fair hair wave in the wind
When you dance around on the moor
I have a tinge of you in me
But you suppress it
Nobody sees me in the shadow behind you
Your happiness feeds me
I won't fumble at your side anymore
Sun will shine again
You pure gaze will vanish
Your soul dies tonight
3. Generalen Og Troldharen
Til Høidemarkerne lagde han sin Visitt af,
en Officer, pensionered og høit decorered,
hvis Jagtmod blev gået over af Tvivl saadan
i Møde med baade Meute og Veidemand!
Hvo er De
der tror De kan
fælde Haren i snehvid Ham?
--Vrøvl!
Med Kløgt og Tel
skal den forgaae
og mine Kugler bide paa
Generalen olmed sig og fnøs af hine tykpandedes phantastiske Fortællinger
Guds Død og Fandensdom! om en Pjalt lusker til sig Mælk og Vællinger
--iscenesadt af Kællinger!?
Med Siælen sadt til Diævelen af
i Bytte mod hin dyreste Skat,
kan Mokken, før i Skærsilds Hav,
raade frit med Sortekunsts Legat
Før Hanen gol,
med Villen fast,
der blegned baade Fugl og Gast,
Og Rigtignok!,
om lidt han saae
Efterladenskaber saa bittesmaae
Paa Gribbenillens
Kælebuk
bider ikke eet eneste Kuk!
Thi slig en Bragd
forsømmes ei
men monne føres dog blot ud af mig!
Jeg haver faaet nok af Flitterstad og Tant; hører I?
Hystaden er lutter mannegal og sprød
I Morgen, før Solen nedrunden ere, skal I faae se den død!
han sprang tilskovs
med Morgenen
ludende over sin Krag-Jørgensen
--PANG! smald det fra Skrænten,
efterfulgt af høilydt Banden
Nu greb Hvidlæst til sit Gevær,
og svandt bort i Blaaning skvær
--PANG! Riffelen atter sang
accompagnered af Bersekergang
Hans Liv passered saa Revue
her given Floskelheltens Ry!
Af sig selv forjaged og forkaved,
og føred ind i Afmagtens Bedrøvelse
Ak, hvilket Huskomhei han nu havde laved
Nej, han monne hvæsse Syn og Hørelse
til sit Livs Prøvelse
- at genreise Fordums Førelse,
efter Fornemheds Frarøvelse
Og rigtignok!
han fandt flux Spor
og grinte vel af sin Gave stor
Han kasted indpaa mere Skraa, thi slig en Stund skulde skønnes paa,
og tritted sporenstregs og kvikt og sveded ud baade Tryk og Gigt
Gennem Morgenrødens Stille skar en durkdreven Statur
og kyste alskens Liv herop, der ei var kendt med slig Natur
I hans Øine skimtes nu Diævelen, om du tør at skæve ind i dem!
thi han mærked det, i Marg og Ben, Ramlerens Nærvedsværen:
O Øienpryd! Hist, i Fleinkrullslyng, Hvidpuds praled og sig vigted
med lidet vidste den derom, at den nu laae i Riffelsigtet
Igen, han fandt sig selv høiraged og begaved,
der føltes skønt her med Overvægtens Beruselse,
thi! han fandt Haren i Lyngen, der ei længer kaved
Hist, den laae til Vy og Anskuelse,
Skamfuldhed og Ruelse
omkalfatred til Lunelse
over Trofæets Hædersbebudelse
Men brat byksed Haren op
som Jægersiæl ud af Krop!
Generalen fik saa her sin største Knæk,
thi Haren sprang nu med hans Finger væk!
Med Ryg og Lænder, krum og lud i sagte Trin,
og Knoen gemt, svøbt i blodig Klæde ind;
Jagtmod ere gået over af Tvivl saadan
i møde med baade Meute og Veidemand
Hvad haver hændt
med Eders Haand,
der ere bleg som Eders Aand?
Si', hvad var vor Gæt?
De bar tomhænded Hiem
og tilbage ligger nu Hoveren
--Pølsesnak!
I Barten han prusted
ein Zapfenstreich
og med Næve hytted, han hvæsed og spytted:
Revanche: Mit Løsen!
I ved Løvfald ser
en nyboren Christianienser!
[English translation:]
The General And The Troll-Hare5
To the highlands paid a visit
An officer, retired and highly decorated
Whose hunting courage was often doubted
In meeting with both pack of hounds and hunters
"Who are you
You believe you can
Slay the hare with the snow-white shape
On the pet belly
Of the shrew
Doesn't have effect a fuck!"
"Nonsense!
With shrewdness and courage
It shall die
And my bullets will have effect
For such a bang
Don't miss
But it has to be shot just by me!"
The general got angry and snorted for the fabulous stories of these retarded
"Goddamn it! What if it's a coward to slink milk and gruel
Directed by hags?
With soul offered to the devil
In exchange with this most precious treasure
The hag can, before the purgatory's sea
Rule freed with black art's endowment"
"I had enough of tinsel and fables, do you hear me?
The hysterical animal is nothing but a loony and mad
Today before sun is set, you will see it dead"
Before the cock crows
With firm will
There got pale both bird and troll-bird
He ran to the wood
The morning
Stooping over his Krag-Jørgensen
And indeed!
Somewhat he saw
Excrements so tiny and small
And indeed!
He found straight away spoors
And grinned for this big present
He cast in his mouth more chewing tobacco, for such a moment should be evaluated
And stepped immediately and quick and sweated both for gasp and rheumatism
Through the dawn's silence loomed a crafty stature
Killing all kinds of living creatures up there that were known with such nature
In his eyes gleams the devil, if you dare to leer at them
For he felt in marrow and bone, the hare's presence
Oh eye-adornment! Here in the heather of the barren grove, the white-painted boasted and showed off
But little it knew that there it laid in the rifle aim
Bang! It banged from the hillside
Followed by a high-resounding curse
Now the white-paw fell back on its guns and vanished away in the fading blue clouds
Bang! The rifle sang again
Accompanied by going-berserk
His life passed in review
Giving the boast of platitude
Worried about himself and breathless
And led inside impotence's sorrow
Alas what uproar he made
No, he had to sharpen sight and hearing
For his life's ordeal
To restore the conduct of old days
After being robbed of his distinction
But suddenly the hare leaped up
Like hunter-soul out of his body!
The general got his biggest crack
For the hare now sprang with his finger away!
With back and lumbar, crooked and stooping with soft step
And knuckles gone, swathed in bloody clothes
Hunting courage has dispelled the doubt such
In meeting with both pack of hounds and hunters
"What happened
To your hand
Is it sallow like your spirit?
Say what looked like our lady?
You come back home empty-handed
And leave behind the triumph"
“Crap talk!”
In moustache he snorted
“A (military) tattoo”
And with clenched fist, he hissed and spat
“Revenge! My battle cry
By leaf fall you'll see
A new-born Kristiania citizen!”
4. Arv
Faderen sadt med sin Kniv og skar
paa sit Indtun og søgte Svar
han ere nu trætted og betænkt
Han saae sin Søn nu vokse til
og undred om ham føre vil
Levnet ham ere ofred og skænkt
Sønnen saa et Brev bekommet;
Sønnen svor sin Siæl
Faderen med Sotte, forkommet,
laae nu, uden Vilje, uden Lyst
Uden Tøven hasted Hiem
naadde ei rettidigt frem,
Faderen havde resigneret sin Dyst
Dine Høster faaer du af Marken du saaer
saa hold sirlig din Hæst og din Harv,
Før dit sidste Traa, maae du din Søn formaae
saa han bliver ved her i sin Arv
Se til de nære, og hold dine kære
og vid at de vil med dig henstaae
Lær din Søn alt derom Ætt og Gehalt
og han høste vil saa din Stoltheds Haa
Faderen tog sit farvel
higheil og sæl
udvortes
Sønnen drog af Gaarde
og Skammen slog en Aare
indvortes
derpaa, sin Odel
at beskikke
Han svor sit Eftermæle
derpaa, hans Minde
at beskikke
Voldt efter forgangen Sed
jeg muldlægger dig paa dit Arnested
saa du kan følge med
at vor Families Hævd varer ved
I Utid, i Vansken
vender jeg mig til din Houg hen
saa du kan følge med
At vor Families Hævd varer ved
Naar min Tid kommen ere,
skal jeg da selv lægges her,
og min Sønnesøn,
der vil føre vor staute Arv skvær
[English translation:]
Heritage
The father sat with his knife and carved
In his inner courtyard and sought answers
He is now arguing and thoughtful
He saw his son grown up
And wondered if he would carry on
The life he has been offered and granted
The son saw a letter come:
The son cursed his soul
The father with sickness, devastated
Lays now, without will, without desire
Without hesitating hurried home
Did not arrived right on time
The father had resigned to his battle
"Following the ancient custom
I will bury you in your birthplace
So that you can see
That our family's tradition lasts by
In bad times, in troubles
I will turn to your burial mound
So that you can see
That our family's tradition lasts by
When my time has come
I too shall be laid here
And my son's son
Will carry our proud heritage honestly"
"Your harvest you get from the ground you sow
So keep your horse and your harrow adorned
In your last wish, you must urge your son
So that he remains by his heritage
See the close ones, and hold your loved ones
And they will stand by you
Teach your son everything about family and value
And he will harvest your pride's hay"
The father took his farewell
Tranquil and happy
Outwards
The son left the farm
And the shame struck a vein
On the inside
Afterwards, his inherited land
He got in order
He swore his obituary
Afterwards, his memory
He got in order
5. Yndifall
Með hundraði seggum
salt bar inn gran-rauði
striðlyndir ok illvilja-fullir
Þegar sem í augljósi kom land
Vörn á fjöru stóð
í sjáldi hvílaði Foldin
en mark hersis varð lyptat
Þegar sem í augljósi kom hjölt
Þaðan kertisveinn skrækti
gekk gramr sá út í leiki Freys
ok dróttir gengu saman með honum
Reiðyrði í hávaða váru heyrt
en lólyndr hersis gekk til níðings
ok Hildr gekk saman með honum
Hildr ok Skögul bíðu ór stað
Á meðal vikvera hundraða
birtast fránn inn tiginborni
lang-rækir ok baráttu-fullir
i Þvisa él réð Þá yndifall
Margr maðr hraustaligr fell
dreyra-fæð rann Foldin
en størri tapan skulu verða
í Þvísa él réð Þá yndifall
Höggvandi lysti af honum höfuðit
ímnir hans vá ok sárs-auki gein
siðan hné gramr aptr ok var Þá dauðr
Hirð fölnaði ok starði niðr
glýstamir ok værugjarnir andast
nú skulu Þeir til viss hvergi
Hildr ok Skögul bíðu ór stað
[English translation:]
Bereavement
With hundreds of men
The red-beard was carrying salt
Battle-minded and full of ill-will
When soon appeared the land
A defence stood on the waterline
Seldom the County rested
So the mark of the hersir6 was hoisted
When soon appeared the land
Then a young orderly shrieked
The warrior went in Freyr's game7
And all the men went together him
Angry words could be hear loudly
But a coward hersir went towards infamy
And Hildr went together him8
Hildr and Skögul waited in the same place9
In the bay they were hundreds
The noble-born gleamed bright
With a long memory and skilled in battle
Then the storm10 decreed the bereavement
Many a valorous man fell
Blood-stained run the County
But loss would be become greater
Then the storm decreed the bereavement
They wanted to hit him on the head
The giants revealed him misfortune and sorrow11
After the warrior fell backwards and then died
The hird12 turned pale and stood watching
Joyless and wishing for warm and rest they passed away
Now for sure they will be no more
Hildr and Skögul waited in the same place
6. Gengangeren
Riv mig sund
Læm for Læm
Bistert og vondt
mit Helved-Rig
Hør, jeg bier, giv mig Fred
ifra Mønsteret du ei vil være ved
Skral og tom jeg falder i Knæe
Hør, jeg bier, giv mig Fred
Overvældende, et Mulm søger sin Føde
i Sygdom og Forkommenhed mister jeg min Tro,
Naar du høster ind din Grøde
vænder jeg Øine væk fra en endelig Ro
Bistert og vondt mit Helved-Rig
Jeg kæmper Sygdommens faafængte Krig
Nød voldes
igen og igen
Om jeg blot kunde svinde hen
Skral og tom
Jeg falder i Knæe
Hør! Jeg bier
giv mig Fred
fra Dødens Spot
fra mit Lægeme
saa tungt, saa tungt
Giv mig Fred!
[English translation:]
The Apparition
Tear me apart
Limb for limb
Grim and evil
My infernal kingdom
Hear I await, give me peace
Into the cathedral you will not be admitted
Weak and empty I fall on my knees
Hear I await, give me peace
Overwhelming, a darkness seeks its nourishment
In sickness and weariness I lose my faith
When you reap your crop
I'll turn my eyes away from a final rest
Grim and evil my infernal kingdom
I fight the worthless battle of sickness
Need is generated
Again and again
If only I could disappear
Weak and empty
I fall on my knees
Hear! I await
Give me peace
From death's mock
From my body
So heavy, so heavy
Give me peace
7. Prunkende, Stolt I Jokumsol
I Stille færdes jeg
hen fra Alfarvei
opp mod Jokumsol
Af Byrden vældes jeg
Tankerne knuger mig
Der synes langt til Jokumsol
Alt mit Vonde glemmer jeg
bi Lysskapet fremfor mig,
der blusser i Jokumsol
Elvehesten fore mig
i Prunken hin viser sig
saa stolt i Jokumsol
Hvis Varskrig lokker mig
og fører mig indtil sig
given hen i Jokumsol
Levnet blaaner bagom mig
ei længer tynges jeg
saa skønt i Jokumsol
Dansense ledes jeg
idet Nøkken toner Vei
given efter i Jokumsol
I Tiernet svinder jeg
mod Mulmet under mig
saa koldt i Jokumsol
[English translation:]
Pompously, Proudly In The Sun Of Jokum
In silence I journey
Away from the public road
Up towards the sun of Jokum
By the burden I am ruled
Thoughts oppress me
It seems to me so far to the sun of Jokum
All my sorrow I forget
By the daylight before me
It flares in the sun of Jokum
The elf horse before me
In pomp it shows itself
So proudly in the sun of Jokum
If a wailing cry13 allures me
And leads me up to it
I will abandon myself in the sun of Jokum
Life fades to blue behind me
And no longer I'm oppressed
So fair in the sun of Jokum
Dancing I'm driven
On the path of the Nøkk song14
Yielding myself in the sun of Jokum
In the tarn I disappear
In darkness beneath me
So cold in the sun of Jokum
8. En Myrmylne
En Efteraarsdag
saa kold, saa skønn
strøg jeg af Sted
Med gyldne røde
prangende føre mig
blev jeg liden igen
En sval Bris
let mod mit Kind
som en Hiertenskærs Strygen
Sitrende jeg laver
i duggfrisk Lyng
mit Hierte slaae sin Rod
Myrerne stuves
for sit røde Guld,
hvis Blussen tilstases
mit Hy og Huld
Mit Spand nu fyldes
-just som mig
Mit Spand hartad læns
stadig trinte jeg
i Skoven længer ind
mod gemte Lænder
smykked i Guld
Hist fore mig
i Skoddefavn
Bjørken røber sin Lønegang
mod Myrerne
i fuld Troldpuds
mit Føtt slaaer sin Rod
Op ifra Søkket
op ifra Skoddehav,
en duvende Mylne
hos Tørvfolket stod
Dødmand byder
sin Dødkone op
Forføred af Løden
om Myrens smukke Guld
Forsømmed jeg Døden
kring Multens vonde Kuld
Multens Greb nu omkring mig slog
og lokker mig længer ud paa Lunsemyr
--mens Dødens Vals tiltog
Tørvens Greb haardt omkring min Fod
og trækker mig ned mod min vaate Grav
Min Krop saa tung, saa hvilkekær
fredsælt min Vilje her bleges af
Dødmand om
sin Dødkone
Hænderne hævet
over Hoved
En Aattetur
i evig Rundgang
-slig gaaer Dødens Vals
Høire Haand
tvunded i hendes
Venstre Haand
tvunden i hans
Til Toner
af Raaten gik
Mylnen med en Oddes Savn
Hvis Multerne
saa til næste Høst
min Danseuse vilde skænke mig
[English translation:]
A Bog Mylne15
An autumn day
So cold, so beautiful
I dashed off
With golden red16
Shining before me
I'm enthusiast again
A cool breeze
Played against my cheek
Like a heart-rending caress
Trembling I lay down
In the dew-fresh heather
My heart strikes roots
My bucket almost empty
Constantly I have stepped
Farther in the wood
So fast my foot
Towards hidden lands
Adorned with gold
Here before me
In the fog's embrace
The birch reveals its secret passage
Towards the bogs
In full troll caster
My feet strike roots
Bogs are crammed
With their red gold17
Whose blaze adorns
My complexion and body
My bucket now is filled
Just as me
Seduced by the sound
Of the bog's lovely gold
I neglected the Death
Around the cloudberry's evil cold
Up from the hollow
Up from the fog-sea
A swaying mylne
Stood by the peat-people18
The dead men summons
His dead wife
The cloudberry's grasp wrap me around
And allures me further on the treacherous bog
While the Death's waltz enhances
Peat's grasp hardly around my foot
And pulls my down towards my wet grave
My body so heavy, so motionless
Peace-loving my will gets pale
Dead men by
His dead women
Hands lifted
Over the head
A eight figure
In eternal turn
Such goes the Death's waltz
Right hand
Entwined in hers
Left hand
Wound in his
To the tunes
Of decay went
The mylne with a nostalgia for the odd one
Whose cloudberries
Saw the next autumn
That my dancer will grant me
Erik Fossan Rasmussen ‒ Vocals, Drums
Raymond Håkenrud ‒ Guitars, Bass, Vocals, Piano
Marius Glenn Olaussen ‒ Guitar, Bass, Mandolin, Accordion, Piano, Mellotron
Lars Fredrik Frøislie ‒ Hammond Organ, Piano, Mellotron, Mini-Moog
1. A flower used in medicine against many illness, in Norwegian the name translates literally as "the devil's milk pail"
2. Kenning for lightning.
3. Inspired to the medieval Scandinavian ballad "The Two Sisters" about two sisters, one pure and lovely, the other wicked and hateful. The latter one ends up killing her sister to take her lover’s hand from her and to herself.
4. her boyfriend.
5. Inspired to a true story where there was some retired lieutenant, not a general like here, travelling from Christiania (the Capitol of Norway from 1877 to 1925) to the countryside of Ringerike (but in the lyric it's the author's homelands Hadeland, not far away from Ringerike) to hunt down a troll-hare, which has been terrorizing the locals for awhile.
6. Local ruler.
7. Kenning for battle.
8. Hildr is a valkyrie. To go with a valkyrie means to go in battle.
9. Hildr and Skögul are two valkyries, they wait for battle to begin so to take with them the braver warrior to Valhalla
10. Metaphor for battle
11. Usually Giants are keeper of great wisdom, they can reveal if you'll be lucky or not in battle.
12. King's own armed following.
13. In Scandinavia folklore “Varskrig” is the scream that Nøkk gives to allure people
14. Water spirit that can shift shape into a white or grey horse just to be mounted and lead the rider into a lake or river.
15. “Mylne” is a waltz. It tells a story about a man going to the woods picking cloudberries, but ending up dead in the marshlands. Others just like him, also mesmerized by the cloudberries, ended up in these marshlands. On his slow, yet certain way downwards into the sump, their ghostly figures appear, performing this waltz, which is an octagonal traditional waltz. They teach him the dance and let him join in.
16. Sunset.
17. The cloudberry.
18. The dead of the marshland.
Lyrics in plain text format
