Upon the runes inscribed in rock.

The mossy rock by the side of the road

Has kept its secret since ages began.

It recalls how the Earth came to be,

And the light came out of the darkness.



It remembers the hands that cut the holy signs

Into its cold grey flesh.

He who sacrificed himself, hanging on the ash-tree of life

Knows the mystery of the holy signs.



He who suffered for the knowledge of the Runes,

Has left them for the new world to see.

The rock what was washed with sacrificial blood

Revealed the mystery of the world by the Velves.

It remembers the Suttung tribe,

It knows how the Aesir dies.