Thor’s-day with Vikings

by O Society

The word “Thursday” comes from Thor of Norse mythology. Today, we’re meditating on a singer called Wadruna (Einar Selvik), who is old-school, keeping the traditions alive with his amazing voice.

Völuspá is Old Norse, skald, the first poem in the poetic edda

Lyrics:

Hljóðs bið ek allar helgar kindir, meiri ok minni mögu Heimdallar; viltu, at ek, Valföðr! vel framtelja forn spjöll fíra, þau er fremst um man Ár var alda þar er Ýmir bygði, vara sandr né sær né svalar unnir, jörð fannsk æva né upphiminn, gap var ginnunga, en gras hvergi Sól tér sortna, sígr fold í mar hverfa af himni heiðar stjörnur geisar eimi ok aldrnari leikr hár hiti við himin sjalfan Bræðr munu berjask ok at bönum verðask munu systrungar sifjum spilla Skelfr Yggdrasils askr standandi ymr it aldna tré, en jötunn losnar Geyr nú Garmr mjök fyr Gnipahelli festr mun slitna en freki renna Fjölð veit ek fræða, fram sé ek lengra um ragna rök römm sigtíva Sér hon upp koma öðru sinni jörð ór ægi iðjagræna; falla forsar, flýgr örn yfir, sá er á fjalli fiska veiðir Sal sér hon standa sólu fegra, gulli þakðan á Gimléi; þar skulu dyggvar dróttir byggja ok um aldrdaga ynðis njóta.

English translation

Hearing I ask from all the tribes
Greater and lesser, the offspring of Heimdall;
Father of the Slain, you wished me well to declare
Living beings’ ancient stories, those I remember
From furthest back

Early in time Ymir made his settlement
There was no sand nor sea nor cool waves;
Earth was nowhere nor the sky above
A void of yawning chaos, grass was there nowhere

The sun turns black, land sinks into the sea
The bright stars vanish from the sky;
Steam rises up in the conflagration
Hot flame plays high against heaven itself

Brother will fight brother and be his slayer
Sister’s sons will violate the kinship-bond
The ancient tree groans and the giant gets loose
Yggdrasill shudders, the tree standing upright

Now Garm bays loudly before Gnipa-cave
The fetter will break and the ravener run free
Much wisdom she knows, I see further ahead
To the mighty Doom of the Gods, of the
Victory-gods

She sees, coming up a second time
Earth from the ocean, eternally green;
The waterfalls plunge, an eagle soars above them
Over the mountain hunting fish

A hall she sees standing, fairer than the sun
Thatched with gold, at Gimle;
There the noble fighting-bands will dwell
And enjoy the days of their lives in pleasure

 

 

 

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