Blessing to Ithunn
At the full of the moon I make a fire
in honour of the Apple-queen;
for the gentle goddess a gift of flame,
for Thiazi’s booty a blazing.
By poetry’s potion - the power of your spouse –
Loki’s load I call;
as the fruit of the hazel you flew from Thiazi’s,
filched by the Father of Hel.
Hasten you now here, leave heaven awhile,
the girl the gods depend on;
bear your basket and on Bifrost tread
so your bubbling joy is about me.
As floods rise in February, fill this horn,
this ale of the apple with blessings;
so this lake of your luck is lavished in sprinkling
and blessings blossom from drinking.
Take well with this draught Grim’s daughter-in-law
who cures Othinn’s kin of old age!
This apple-drink I offer to you,
the apple of Bragi’s eye!
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Poetic form: Ljóđaháttr (Song Meter)