I know that I hung on the windy tree
Nine long nights, wounded by the spear
Dedicated to Odin, I myself to myself
On the branch of the tree that no one knows
From which root it grew
They offered me neither bread nor mead
Then I bowed down on runes pondering
Learned them sighing, fell at last to earth
They offered me neither bread nor mead
Nine main songs I learned from the wisе son
From the wise son of Bölthorn, Bestla's fathеr and drank a drink
Of the dear mead, drawn from Odrörir
Nine main songs I learn from the wise son
I know that I hung on the windy tree
Nine long nights, wounded by the spear
Dedicated to Odin, I myself to myself
On the branch of the tree of which no one knows
(From which root it grew)
Runes you will find and staffs of advice
Very strong staffs, very mighty staffs
Arch orators devised them, gods created them
They carved the noblest of rulers....
Odin, the Aces, the Alves Dainn
Dvalinn the dwarf, Alsvidur the giant
Odin the Aesir, Dainn the Alf
Dvalinn the dwarf, Alsvidur the giant
(Some cut themselves)
Better not asked than too much offered:
The gift always wants retribution
Better nothing sent than too much paid
So Thulur carved it to the guide of the peoples
Then he escaped to where he came from
Do you know how to carve? Do you know how to guess?
Do you know how to find? Do you know how to search?
Do you know how to ask? Do you know how to sacrifice?
Do you know how to send? Do you know how to erase?
Odin, the Aesir, the Alf Dainn
Dvalinn the dwarf, Alsvidur the giant