Raven-tongue
BY THORBJORN HORNKLOFI (TRANS. BY EMILY OSBORNE)
Listen, ring-holders. Hear of Harald
the gold-loaded lord and feats of spear-spikes.
I will tell you: I heard the words of a white,
light-locked lass as she spoke with a raven.
The Valkyrie surely was shrewd: men were not tame
to that battle-speeding dame. She’d learned bird-speech.
The white-throated girl, graceful-eyed, greeted
the giant’s skull-plucker, the raven perched on the scarp’s rim.
What are you doing, ravens? At the day’s soul-dawning
you’ve flown in with bloody beaks. Where from?
Flesh cleaves to your claws. Corpse-stench flows from your mouths.
I’ve guessed it: last night you nested where carrion rested.
The eagle’s oath-brother fluffed its dusky feathers
and rubbed clean its beak, pondering its response:
We have flown with the young king, Harald
son of Halfdan, since we hatched from our eggs.
I thought you’d know the Lord of Norwegians,
the king who lives at Kvinnar. He commands
deep-keeled ships, crimson shield-rims and
gory shields, tarred oars and snow-drifted tents.
If the noble-souled lord could name his will alone, he’d
drink the Yuletide in at sea and stage Freyr’s sport.
As a child he tired of tending cauldron-fires, of sitting
indoors, of women’s warm chambers and down-filled mittens.
Have you heard how in Hafrsfjord, the king
of great kin fought against Kjotvi the Wealthy?
Courage-eager ships came from the east,
their figureheads with graven beaks and gaping jaws.
Those ships were loaded with warriors and
white shields, western spears and Frankish swords.
Berserkers roared: those wolf-skins bellowed
and brandished iron blades. Battle was upon them.
Clangor-poem
BY THORBJORN HORNKLOFI (TRANS. BY EMILY OSBORNE)
The time was right: the young,
hard-ruling king, ransacker
of the pale wave-horse, bid his
ships’ prows pushed out to sea.
A storm thrust the plank-steed
from the north. The sword-lord
stayed on deck, sailing into
war against two sovereigns.
At battle’s start, the ever-cunning kings
called on each other without words,
hailing with clangor-shots.
The red shield’s voice was on show.
On the fo’c’s’le, men fell.
Life fled before the king.
Savage swords boomed on shields.
The blade-smearer triumphed.
Haraldr, you are known as open-handed.
Under the old, overhanging
sun’s throne, no other king-clanned
man nobler than you will come.
