Nimril

When often I had stood on the cold north shores From the Vinland rock, Watching the grey waves flow; I had a distinct feeling that I had been here before. But so long ago. Whereas the sun is setting And the fog rolls over the fells All covered in juniper, I remember When proudly I had set my sails. Then some ancient creature beckons me Return to the earth. Return with sword in hand, To stand by ancient gods In courage and in mirth. Wyrd hath often spoke with me, A gentle confidante, Who whispers from the sea And recalls the rusty hearts Of nordic men of old. Great men that stood by heathen gods Who banked their ships