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How was begotten Fafnir’s gold,
Was it seemly bestowed, or stolen?
For in mountain cave it lies glittering cold.
Wise folk say it was stolen for greed,
Now festering, not cherished, in the dark;
Grim warriors must gird wise deed.
We look to waters in well of foretelling,
For Fafnir’s gold was treasure of our house,
Guardian heart its dwelling.
There descend weavings of dream,
Fate-women’s thread twists bright and black;
In yearning soul shuttles gleam.
Honor’s joy to regain stolen jewel,
Upon ghastly fortress we march;
Dwarves await, spears pointed and cruel.
True soul must true word obey,
We snatch hoard under grim belly sleeping;
Dance of our fate dwarves would slay.
The scowling ones spit on our name,
Bright thread fate-women weave and bind;
Evil-spelled enemies falter in golden flame.
Bitterly seething Fafnir’s heart breaks,
Swarthy dwarves howl in defeat;
Gold-girded soul shimmering awakes.
© Cameron La Follette
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