Ivaldi’S Sons

Down where stone remembers flame
They carve the sky with tools of name
Sons of Ivaldi, born of dust
Hands of power, eyes of trust
Metal breathes, the shapes arise
Gold and runes, beneath cold skies
From quiet caves, the gifts are sung
With every strike, a fate is hung
Smíðir Ivalda, skapa örlǫg
Hamar, spjót, ok bǫrn himins
Hversu djúpt, svá lítit ljós
Þeir smíða rǫk, þeir smíða goð
Loki came with silver tongue
A wager made, the forge begun
Mjölnir rose with thunder's breath
But flawed and short, a trial's test
Gungnir spun in sacred thread
A spear for kings, where oaths are bled
Skidbladnir folds with silent grace
To sail the stars and time and space
Smíðir Ivalda, skapa örlǫg
Hamar, spjót, ok bǫrn himins
Hversu djúpt, svá lítit ljós
Þeir smíða rǫk, þeir smíða goð
They vanish deep, beyond all lore
But echoes ring from mythic core
The gods still hold their crafted fate
In every war, in love, in hate
So praise the ones who made the stars
With hands that shaped both wounds and scars
In fire's breath their legacy
Still sings beneath the ash tree
Smíðir Ivalda, skapa örlǫg
Hamar, spjót, ok bǫrn himins
Hversu djúpt, svá lítit ljós
Þeir smíða rǫk, þeir smíða goð