Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn
Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n...
Auf dem Hügel alt,
Wo kalte Winde weh´n.
Die Haare offen,
Die Füße bloß,
So tanztest Du
Auf der Erde warmem Schoß.
Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n,
Auf dem Hügel alt,
Wo kalt die Winde weh ´n.
Die Erde leidet
Unter ihrem Schritt,
Sie gehen unter
Und reißen alles mit.
In ihren Garten säen sie
Eine Saat aus Blei,
Und sie töten alles,
Was noch wild und frei.
Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n...
Auf dem Hügel alt, wo kalte Winde weh´n.
Ich singe eine Dornenhecke
Um dieses kleine Lied,
Um diese Saat, und Eisenkette
Füg ich Glied an Glied.
Ich singe eine Eiche,
Bewacher des Portals,
Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn,
Und ein Lied aus Stahl,
Drei Dornen Schwarzdorn,
Und Klinge kalten Stahls.
Ich singe Dir ein Schild,
Ich singe Felsgebein,
Tanze frei und wild
Unter dem Mondlichtschein.
Sie haben Dich beobachtet,
Sie haben Dich geseh´n,
Auf dem Hügel alt
Unter den Sternen steh´n.
Die Haare offen,
Die Füße bloß,
Deine Augen blickten
In Sternenweiten fern;
Und auf Deiner Stirne
Und in Deinem Schoß,
Dort leuchtet hell ein Stern.
Three thorns of blackthorn (word by word-translation, might be a song will follow)
They observed you,
They have seen you
On an ancient hill
Where cold winds blow.
Your locks were free,
Your feet were bare,
As you danced
On the Earth´s warm bosom.
They observed you,
They have seen you,
On an ancient hill
Where cold winds blow.
The Earth it suffers
Under their pounding step
They are falling,
With them they tear down all.
In their garden
They sow a leaden seed,
And they kill
All things wild and free.
They have observed you,
They have seen you,
On an ancient hill,
Where cold winds blow.
I sing a hedge of blackthorn
Around this little song,
Around this seed, and iron chain
I mend link to link.
I sing an oak,
The guardian of the door,
Three thorns of blackthorn,
And a song of steel,
Three thorns of blackthorn,
And a blade of steel.
I sing for thee a shield,
A rock to build upon,
Dance so free and wild
Under the ancient moon.
They have seen you,
They did observe
You standing under stars
And your look it wandered far away.
Your locks were free,
Your feet were bare,
And on your brow
And in your bosom
Brightly burns a star.
Those are the adventures of Mr. Fimbulmyrk, in bushcraft and blacksmithing, mountainbiking and hiking, reenactment, writing, singing, dancing, stargazing and having a piece of cake and a coffee. Pray have a seat and look around you, but be warned - the forest´s twilight is ferocious at times.
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