03.02.2011, 12:42
Storm-crows gather, grasp both sword and shield,
a crimson moon is pulling at the tide
to wake the longboats, they sway side by side
awaiting us, to harvest unsown yield.
No father left us any fertile field,
no mother acted as a caring guide,
when tossed into the sea we learned to ride
all waves in any weather, how to wield
oars and axes, how to dance with death.
Spring came to coasts that groaned while calvng ice
as hunger gnawed us seven months of night.
But now the wind feels like a maidens breath
upon my skin and I will pay her price
if I return from wind and waves and light.
a crimson moon is pulling at the tide
to wake the longboats, they sway side by side
awaiting us, to harvest unsown yield.
No father left us any fertile field,
no mother acted as a caring guide,
when tossed into the sea we learned to ride
all waves in any weather, how to wield
oars and axes, how to dance with death.
Spring came to coasts that groaned while calvng ice
as hunger gnawed us seven months of night.
But now the wind feels like a maidens breath
upon my skin and I will pay her price
if I return from wind and waves and light.