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1 SIGFRIDSSON – HUNTED IN INVIOLABLE BLOOD (POETRY E-BOOK)

After most of these translations have been sitting around for five years, I finally got it somewhat together.

 

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TAKEN YEARS WANDERED

 Taken years wander around, 

too Bored with day and night

.

The wind hisses,

newly kindled stars gaze

.

Hugen cuts after, in me,

while clouds ignore and the birds swear

.

Are then waking the night in vain

and fathoming the moonbeams

over this bloomed out meadow

.

Surrounded traces of this life 

become gladness itself to a shimmer,

which runs 

through its ground base

before hope is expected

and avoiding

the formed heritage

where inaccessible turns,

waiting, Calling, waiting

.

One inside all the Light in here is played;

hearing wind whisper itself amongst leaves

in front of this awaited death duty plight

A rare functioning love insight

.

.

.

BLISS!

LOVE!

NECTAR!

TAKEN YEARS WANDERED

TAKEN YEARS WANDERED

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INVIOLABLE

Poured in a few warming glances for sweetly rare memories

to carry away, pity gone by, to enclose this inviolable,

yet get to sense those wet summer meadows caress my legs,

to catch the calm wind close to the corner of this stable

.

Dreamed,

I am everywhere down here called a dreamed

.

A hidden,

inside indecisions; the seasons rake me in as gone

.

Glances of Life linger on to remain inside the bitter hurted

and to guest the old property as if this life still was alive,

as if an unknown mist hanged on to this very Life perished,

as would my life still remain in Life as my own Life

.

(Coldly clear. A partly unhinged wooden gate creaks wind,

opened unto a forgotten yard whose remains can be sighted slightly.)

.

Leaned over wooden boxes filled up with potatoes and carrots,

smelling in filled bags with mealy apples in the foyer cold

which all lasted as long as Winter would hand its permission

.

(Frost stricken. The gravel path glimmers its fragile floes,

small stones set inside the frozen sand did glisten still.)

.

I am snared sorrow-wise, bilious, mild-eyed, fragile and lost

like the last apple shined witnessed left on its winter branch

sees this year’s harvest of autumn leaves beauty rolled in frost

.

I stand ended,

alone left unarmed against unreality’s gruesomeness

.

Sidling up to the charcoal kiln forgotten by the region

in thinking of friends’ swords drawn out from the field below

.

Underneath the darkness,

fresh laid snow mounds in a blue bleak winter night

.

.

.

Brewed afterglow:

Dead stars’ cries of regret in the night

beneath gleamingly lingering daybreaks remain ―

Unreachable

.

INVIOLABLE

INVIOLABLE

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GROWTH OR BE DAMNED

The filthy flour is milled bitterly

down among the Aesir-betraying scum

Blood-letted, wronged, all that is foul!

Truth forgotten, all high forced to dream!

.

Imitate not the dead eternelles, you sorrowseeds!

Raise not your tearfilled voices to a false comfort

around those soiled words of impermanence

Quelled spikes shall die! DIE! DIE! DIE!

.

Lowest are brought here through the entrapments,

and when Good intentions is missing; will flicker dead,

parasites impose themselves not trustworthy symbioses,

excruciating, in denial of Holy Knowledge with an empty spite

.

We all participate in this Fated battleground

The War continues for Odmade against doomed 

Condemned breathe; but have nothing for it

Condemned die,  for their will does it

.

OWNERSHIP IS NOTHING YOU CAN HAVE 

MIGHT STAND YOU NOT TO FIND HERE

.

COME NEAR THE NEW TIMES REAL DEMANDS 

MEET A WORLD WHERE ALL CHOSEN IS KEPT 

GROWTH OR BE DAMNED IS THE CHOICE LEFT,

AS WE ALL KNOW THAT RAGNAROK IS NEAR

GROWTH OR BE DAMNED

GROWTH OR BE DAMNED

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LIFE IN MIGHT!

COME WINDS! STORMS!

COME LIFE IN MIGHT! IN BLOOD FROM BLOOD!

COME TIME’S FORCE ― MIGHT OF ODIN!

.

THE GODS ARE LIFE’S AND DEATH’S RULES

ALWAYS PRESENT HERE AND SET ABOVE!

.

DENY THE FRIEND-ROTTEN LOATHSOME ALL WORDS!

HEAVE AWAY HIDDEN IN DREAM AND EARLY FOR NOTHING!

LET THE TRUTH MUTE ALL OF THE DIMNESS AND DOUBT!

VIET OWNS MIDGARD ALONE AND WED IN LIFE HERE!

.

THE WAR IS TEARING ― DRIVES FORWARD A FINAL REVENGE

AND BLOOD WETS THE BARK ― RUNS IN THE RIGHT TRACKS!

.

WE ENABLE HERE TRUTH, HONOUR AND RIGHT!

WE TAKE HOME LOVE, FREEDOM AND MIGHT!

THE LAW IS THAT WE SHALL BE WHAT WE ARE!

.

COME TIME’S FORCE ― MIGHT OF ODIN!

COME LIFE IN MIGHT! IN BLOOD FROM BLOOD!

COME WINDS! STORMS!

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TRUTH’S MERCY

You, you so roseborn and luminous,

in guise and lifted into nothingness,

out of fear blunted blind and bound,

selling grief all its laughable advices

.

You, you lie springless and inconsolable,

in famine outside of Truth’s Mercy

.

This is tragic

.

It is the broken’s tears

.

This is freedom in a world of dross

.

You weathered down call yourself perfect

while life’s dumb illusions become wills

and thoughts shape more dumbness

to explain reasons for all dumbness

.

Waivers of the only raised above

are tolerating vexed ridiculous ideals, 

defined out from futilities’ stomachs

and will be found where miseries hunts

.

For while all High is praised

you love with what is spoiled

.

Ends

scraped forth

in suffering

where naught was 

and soon forgotten

in turned sight’s snaring deeds

.

Warming this powerless pathfinder

which should loathe suffering’s might,

before he here infected will self-starve

outside the existence of Truth’s mercy

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ON ROSECOVERED SNARES` PATH

Weedbundles to catch

Nettles to eat

Blindfolds to carry

Walls to bury

 

Life to sort

 

In drunken swagger after slightest right to hold loved

sifts the funny farms steadily for what is most sane

while the scum lie absent-minded with a red apple in the mug

 

Un-astute unwieldy ― Wretched,

grubbing in exchangable Nothing,

turns around,

not unlike stinking and staring cows

 

And hardships small bread crumbs look good in darkness’ corner

while the very finest scum oink away to their babble songs

 

Retards demand to equal eachother to live furthest down

in clutching after cheap thought-jewelry and life-pettiness

Misgrowth is dug up ideals: Meaningless crass experiences

But, unclean will remain being Gladness’ most rare guests

 

Weedbundles to throw

Nettles to grow

Blinfolds to burn

Walls to build

 

 

Life to sort

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WINDSIDES

Living merely in my autumn leaves, watercourses and clouds,

like a kissed harvest pulled by longings silenced promises

and as unwillingly begged, hard nightflowered and teared

 

The forest sun-striated (Dreamed in Life’s Windsnare)

meanwhile the raining leaned in slowly, hesitent steps

 

(Watching melting, hectically dripping under springsun’s might)

 

In stonelee will soon the violets be placed harrowed here again

and then fade, shyly slouch, under the night-time’s journey

 

(Enough about that.)

 

Stepping up a daily route and got beautiful together with dawning

and when later the rain carefully fell asleep weary beside the evening

down under raking forest tree tops underneath the greyspeckled skies

was springs-ground seen turning home to barrenly (and slowly) drink thaw

 

Gazing miles wide around over the halfway snow stained mounds

where furrowed fields stood silent as frozen, stopped sea waves,

while the Winds hit, took headway from all four sides, then suddenly!:

At precisely the right time beams from the Sun broke in over the district

 

The springtender light lit carefully (Warmed the last years grass)

and little shadows flickered themselves quickly over creek and river

 

I have eye-caressed the pinebedded grounds fairest days

before nocturnal fog arose around tender forestshadows

 

Beneath rainpines’ dripping greeted my sight modest flowering,

together with the rain teared down with most broken branches

 

Indulgent crop on sweet forest ploughed strips, stay here.

WINDSIDES

WINDSIDES

 

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ULTIMATUM

O!

You so easily bought, mightless and tarned,

trapped scabby with the loss of lust caught,

fully emptied of rights: Necessarily trashed!

 

You…

 

You! Forgotten remaining in a worn and fouled

You! Eyetiredly drowned in permanent quicksand

You tracelessly left to be helpless,

you filthy weak and meek, listen up a while!

 

Long enough has wished for been searched down in unwanted

while illusions has been emptied of gladness

where false found thought-worthy qualm unthought thought

and exertedly spilled its power on the pitiful needs

 

Only misanthropists can love what our world has become

while deprived and crushed promises been mortarized

for the weed itself has scuffled in thirst after our blood,

around, and down, at the poisoned well’s places

 

And few wish little more than to qualify as wretch…

 

It is me anyway so bitingly bitter to break

with ripped apart society’s broken

where the crippled and dizzy demand Life to crippled be

 

Hardly.

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IN NIGHT FROST DRAUGHT

Hidden in my last winter abode came Death

alike a frail and excusing crying mourner

and sat down in apprehension, in whispering:

 

Searched here for Life itself to befriend,

in the wounded, in your lone dying

 

We are left here, a shadowfree storm,

holding our rugged words against darkness,

pressing the nights hours; teaching us coldness

 

(Got dragged here through the lands inside darkness

Carried over all the time distances, stones and ices)

 

And cold has just my fairness in its word,

while emptiness,

has its emptiness stuck in the Weave

IN NIGHT FROST DRAUGHT

IN NIGHT FROST DRAUGHT