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The Birth
I am surrounded by emptiness, no help, no counsel.
I stand where all before me have stood, but where I never was.
Alone with myself, alone with my duties.
Helplessness surrounds me; now may the Gods provide.
Ravens croak, wolves howl,
Odin will witness this birth.
Gods and Goddesses of heill and favor were called.
Incense´s been burned, bad spirits shall flee.
Screams follow, blood will flow.
Power runs through the birth-frames.
Servants run, fetch Ran´s element
And cloths of clean linen.
A scream is heard, and a sigh goes through the
hall.
I am prouder than anyone before me.
I raise my child to the Gods and give him my name.
I show him to Nordri, Ostri, Sudri and Westri,
Hallow it through earth, water, fire and air.
My tribe lives, my kindred lives, the spirit
lives.
The fruit is carried on.
My breath is in my offspring.
My chest swills and bursts.
Three hold the threads in their hands.
Spinners they´re called, weaving roughly and finely.
For you, my scion, shall the finest be woven.
Hail be to the kindred.
©
Original "Die Geburt": Bjarne Fransson
© Translation: Michaela Macha