Passend zum nasskalten Wetter draussen, das einen nahe am Feuer kauern lässt...
A vaguely seasonal poem
'Twas the night before Cold Night, when all through the stead,
Not a creature was stirring, that’s all thanks to Veth.
The wood it was piled on the fire with care,
And less it burn out, they gave Kenaz a prayer.
The children were nestled all up in one bed,
To give them good dreams, praise to Sváfnir was said.
And mamma wrapped in furs, in her bed did wriggle,
While I prayed for summer, said a quick word to Sigel.
When out in the yard there arose such a din,
Could it be ice goblins trying to break in?
Away to the door I flew in a dash,
Stopping but briefly to snatch up my axe.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But red-hatted fey with a terrible leer.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in sharp teeth,
And the smoke from it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a cruel face, and his voice was a cry,
Said, “I am a redcap, prepare now to die!”
He sprang right toward me, on flesh he intended to chew,
But I am no farmer, but a servant of Tiw.
His axe he did raise, but mine it rose faster,
And I cut off his head, and so stifled his laughter.
With thanks to the war god, I gathered his axe,
And chopped up his body, and placed it in sacks.
No more of my neighbors will he give a fright,
Happy Cold Night to all, and to all a good night.
_________________
Wiggy
TAG Creative Director
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