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With oaken hearts
veins buried deep
coursing through the earth
spring of life from which they drink

an ancient song
across the land
I hear the mighty cry
as tears from the heavens fall

I walk this journey
through the mist
of the pagan forest
Frozen winds at my back
as moonlight
guides my path

Blood on the earth
nourish the ground
upon which they fall
the smell of rot befalls us all

hvelgamir
branch and flow
bring back life again
as I make this forest my tomb

Rot creeps into my life
existence fading fast
into the forest I go

smell of death embracing me
thick mist I cannot see
the forest awaits with open arms

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