Hræfne

Lung-deep well, feeder of the tree the Wyrd, weaving from the seep
Climbing up the roots, through Nifolham we seek the fog-eyed Drymenn of the hunt.

We come from the mountains, rain in our hair the earth has claimed us, naked and bare
Long the mossy path has guided us home the ravens' croak overhead, the green-ocean's foam.

On Sleipnir's stolen back, we drive far into the wood hear the cry of our bones
We have come to wake the world with our screams Woden, take our kill.

We come from the mountains, rain in our hair the earth has claimed us, naked and bare.
Lo, the mossy path has guided us home the ravens' croak overhead, the green-ocean's moan.

We, moldweg þone willað úre eardlufe bedælað
Siððan wintera iú ond wé, þonan wód prútlíce
Ofer lyfta gebind hwær wé, feor oððe neah þeah þæm beorhtan æsce
Findað mihte þe, in Esangearde þone wildene fyrnwitan.

Logs of ice, snarling mouth of flame with mist we craft, in mist we wreak our game
Lend us your tooth to carve into the gloaming
Tree-deep the spear thrust into our hungry roaming.

We come from the mountains, rain in our hair/the earth has claimed us, naked and bare
Lo, the mossy path has guided us home/the ravens' croak overhead, the green-ocean's moan.

Woden! Hyge! Myne! Woden!