Týrfingr

As swift as the wind, it swings,
Cutting through wood or flesh.
It chops, making holes in each mesh,
And it seems as though it has wings.

My sword, I bow down to thee,
You give me strength when it lacks,
And prowess against all attacks.
You make them all fall on their knee.

A knight I am, but not alone,
My sword is my shelter, my home.
Hail to thee, Týrfingr, Dvalinn’s son !

I’ll fare away, not without you,
You help me through and through.
Hail to thee, Týrfingr, Dvalinn’s son !

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