Poem: The Viking

The Viking

At the age of fifteen became my cramped cabin,
There I lived with my mother.
What to watch on gettren was my long days;
I changed the mind and the senses’.
I dreamed, I thought, I know not what,
I could not be more that used to be happy
Out in the woods.

With heavy heart I leap on the mountain
And looked into the wide sea.
To me it seemed so sweet song billows,
There they go into the foaming sea.
They come from faraway, distant land,
Not keep them shackled, the band not know
Out in the ocean.

One morning from the beach I saw a ship;
As an arrow into the bay shot.
Then swelled my chest, then burned my mind,
Then I knew what I tired.
I ran away from my mother and gettren
And the Vikings took me into the ship
Up on the sea.

At the age of sixteen I played a Viking,
As the poet says, and turned me beardless.
I was sea-king – drew upon the waters
Uti härnadens bloody game.
I made the gangway, donated castles and palaces
And with my struggles on rofvet drew lots
Up on the sea.

From the horns when we emptied the mead musts
With the power of the stormy sea.
From the scale we prevailed on every coast.
The Wallander I took me a maid;
For three days she wept, and so she was happy,
And so was our wedding with playful delight
Up on the sea.

And back among the fighters I was spying
After the ship in the distant blue.
Come Viking sails, – where the debtor blood;
Come krämarn, – so he got to go.
But the bloody victory is the brave host,
Viking and friendship, it links with the sword
Up on the sea.

I was a day of swinging Staf,
The glory for me was the future;
As funny as the swan in swaying SAF,
I was in the roaring wave.
Mine was when every byte, which came in my race,
And free as immensity my hope
Up on the sea.

But I stood on the night of rocking Staf,
And the solitary wave roared,
Then I heard her Norns crochet FAQ
In the storm, shot through space.
Like cows’ menstrual fates are billows surge:
It is best to be ready for the prosperity of cases
Up on the sea.

I reached the age of twenty years, – then came short of evil,
And the lake now ask my blood.
He knows it well, the sooner he has been drinking
Der battle was hottest.
The flaming heart, it beats so fast,
It will soon get cool on the chilly place
Out in the ocean.

However, I do not complain about my day speech:
Quick was, but good, their speed
It is not only a road to the hall of the gods;
And the film is better soon.
With the death song the sound waves go;
For them, I have lived; – my grave I will get
Out in the ocean.
So sings the lonely rock hall
The shipwrecked Vikings among bränningars boil.
The depth of the lake him tearing
And the waves sing their songs again,
And the wind varies according to their spawning time,
But the valiant memory – it becomes

Erik Gustaf Geijer

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