Mead Of Poetry

For eras of torpor
Midgardians wandered
Empty of spirit and joy
Confined to live a dull existence.

Praise the day of change
Sudden shift of fate...
At last a reason to dream for
To drink for all eternity.

The true vial of inspiration
Shortest path to wisdom
It was brought to the heart of Midgard
What a lavish gift of gods!

By the blood of Kvasir
Blended with the finest honey
The meat of poetry breached
From void to creation.

We raise these wooden mugs
To kill our thirst
For each drop, a renewed insight.

There's no easier way
To achieve a greater knowledge and unveil
A bunch of mysteries about this world.

By the blood of Kvasir
Blended with the finest honey
The meat of poetry breached
From void to creation.

We raise these wooden mugs
To kill our thirst
For each drop, a renewed insight.

There's no easier way
To achieve a greater knowledge and unveil
A bunch of mysteries about this world.

As one we hail the brewed juice
Let it spread through our inner veins.

High the spirits lift
With dozens of gulps of mead
The feet start trampling each other
Happily dancing a foolish dance.

We abstract the sense of time
And drift inside this untamed flow
But before it dies away
Chanting remember this gift of the gods.

From the divine spit
Kvasir was born
Enlightened being
He couldn't be wrong.

Killed by dwarves
Split in three
Such is the tale
Mead of poetry.