Gape wide my jaws and She will not escape again.
Her horses flag with the weight of pursuit,
wan-skinned and faltering hooves
distressed by the salt of greying clouds.
They burst and lash against the wheels of Her chariot.

I will devour you. I will devour you.

Arvak, Alsvid, worry not for the swiftness of your deaths.
I have given chase for a thousand years
back and forth across this skull of Ymir,
and shall I ravage your necks and swallow
every flaming stalk of your manes.

You shall suffocate in the warmth of my guts.

The barren valleys of day are wrecked with dreams
so ruined by the knowledge of the coming end
that their light wilts like a garden engarland
With weeds: unkempt, uncared and undressed
by cold, sharp teeth of Death.

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