Tigge Tagge Igelkott / The Hedgehog
by member Laura
Tigge Tagge Igelkott
A Popular Swedish Rhyme
Tigge tagge igelkott
äter både stort och smått
för att bliva fet och rund
före vintervilan.
Tigge tagge igelkott
kilar kring och har så brått
för att finna sig ett bo
nu till vintervilan.
Tigge tagge igelkott
sover sedan riktigt gott
drömmande om sol och vår
under vintervilan.
The Hedgehog
A Poetic Translation
Hedgehog, hedgehog, prickly ball,
eating things both big and small,
so you can grow fat and round,
before your winter slumber.
Hedgehog, hedgehog, in a hurry,
about the forest floor you scurry,
to find yourself a nest,
now for your winter slumber.
Hedgehog, hedgehog, down you creep,
into your nest to soundly sleep,
dreaming of the sun and spring
during your winter slumber.
Going East
By Apprentice Chris Savich
Once our wheels all went into Vermont
ðe shades of đe shadow-casters shot alive
like flames aflickeriŋ and aflittiŋ, đe branches
all lit up wiþ light, luscious and brightsome
oranges and ođer awesome arrangements
of colors, like crimsons cutting þrough
đe skyline, separated by streaks of greens,
and paleish patches of pauses from yellows
þrough an ocean of orange all around.
Before đis fariŋ to fair New Hampshire
I'd laughed when I'd listen to laŋguishment about
"đe Leafers" and đeir loutish ways, but lo and behold,
I found myself to be a friend of đeir fancy đat weekend.
Frankly, it was đe farđest fariŋ eastward
đat eiđer of us had ever done,
and while đe way was work to tread,
me and my missus did make it, and joy
was đe gold to us gifted for goiŋ afar.
Apprentice Chris Savich
Feathered Friends
By Apprentice Erik Lugnet
In crisp winter noon small birds take to wing
Each year feathered critters to me thus sing
Good Sir, Good Sir, today is so cold
Any food you give we will value like gold
So a handful of seeds I throw on the ground
In seconds there are guests cheering around
Good Sir, Good Sir, alive we are still
Thanks to your help and our very strong will
We count down the days to warmth and to light
For spring bringing hope and beauty so bright
Good Sir, Good sir, we must take our leave
The sun in winter gives the shortest reprieve
Apprentice Erik Lugnet
Harri. Hero. Honour.
By Folkbuilder Nicholas Rice
Falling dusk.
Ancestors call.
Silent halls.
Alfar rise.
Veil grows thin, the autumn fades,
The honored dead in shadowed glades.
Warriors brave and fathers wise,
Guide us now through darkened skies.
In Valhalla’s halls, they stand with pride,
With Óðinn’s hand and swords at side.
To fallen kin, we raise our mead,
To memory’s light, to word and deed.
Alfar bold, in honour’s name,
Through mist and night, we feel your flame.
Of strength and valor, there is song,
At altar’s sacrifice, we carry on.
Heroes might, we bow and praise,
To those who walk the Aryan ways.
The path you forged, the blood you gave,
In twilight’s shroud, your spirits wave.
With feasting to the Einherjar,
A fire burns, the world to char.
Folkbuilder Nicholas Rice
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