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Donar's OakBranches as high as vigilant eye could see,Magic runes, once scratched into this tree. An old man sat down at this mighty oak, Every morning, day by day... And he closed his eyes While a gasp blew through its leaves... And he began to speak... Land er heilact, er ec liggia s¿ Ўsom oc Ўlfom n¦r; enn ћrËÁheimi scal ÏÇrr vera, unz um riËfaz regin. Ydalir heita, Ïar er Ullr hefir s¿r um gorva sali; Ѓlfheim Frey gЎfo Ўrdaga tvar at tannf¿. Roots as deep as the very depths of heart, Source for those who know what's still to come... Man of wisdom and knowledge great, With hair as white as snow... The young amongst them in a circle sat And listened to his voice. ...While he began to speak... Land er heilact, er ec liggia s¿ Ўsom oc Ўlfom n¦r; enn ћrËÁheimi scal ÏÇrr vera, unz um riËfaz regin. Ydalir heita, Ïar er Ullr hefir s¿r um gorva sali; Ѓlfheim Frey gЎfo Ўrdaga tvar at tannf¿. |