Enslaved Suttungs Mjod / Perkulator (outro) Lyrics
[incl. Outro "Perkulator"]
[Tekst: Trad.]
104)
Jotungubben eg fann
er no attende komen
der få ting eg teiande fekk
med mange ord
eg mykje til gagn
vann meg I Suttungs salar
105)
Gunnlòd meg gav på gullstolen
drykk av den dyre mjød
vesal løn let eg ho få
ho gav meg trygt si tru,
ho gav meg heile sin hug
106)
Rata-Tonni rudde meg veg
gardt grjot ho gnog
over og under var jotunvegar,
då gjekk det på livet laust
107)
Det vene eg vann, eg vel hev n¢ti
lite den vise vantar
med di Odrere no opp er komen
midt I Midgards fjeim
108)
Uvisst å vita om eg endå var
komen or Jotungarden ut, om ikkje
Gunnlòd, det gode kvendet, hadde
vorti min sële ven
109)
Andre dagen av gjekk rimtussa
til å spørje råd av råd av Hår
I Håvahalli; etter Bolverk dei spurde,
om han var berga hjå gudom,
eller Suttung hadde slegi han ned
110)
Ein eid då svor
Odin på ringen,
kven kan hans trygdemål tru?
Suttung han sveik for (skalde) drykken,
og Gunnlòd sårt han grøtte
[Musikk: Ivar Bjèrnson & Grutle Kjellson]
Text is Hovamol 104-110.
Translated by Henry Adams Bellows
104. I found the old giant, | now back have I fared,
Small gain from silence I got;
Full many a word, | my will to get,
I spoke in Suttung's hall.
105. The mouth of Rati | made room for my passage,
And s___e in the stone he gnawed;
Above and below | the giants' paths lay,
So rashly I risked my head.
106. Gunnloth gave | on a golden stool
A drink of the marvelous mead;
A harsh reward | did I let her have
For her heroic heart,
And her spirit troubled sore.
107. The well-earned beauty | well I enjoyed,
Little the wise man lacks;
So Othrörir now | has up been brought
To the midst of the men of earth.
108. Hardly, methinks, | would I home have come,
And left the giants' land,
Had not Gunnloth helped me, | the maiden good,
Whose arms about me had been.
109. The day that followed, | the frost-giants came,
Some word of Hor to win,
Of Bolverk they asked, | were he back midst the gods,
Or had Suttung slain him there?
110. On his ring swore Othin | the oath, methinks;
Who now his troth shall trust?
Suttung's betrayal | he sought with drink,
And Gunnloth to grief he left.
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