Thunnor

From my hammer, thunder will burst,
Sending upon your souls a curse
Wicked, cleanser of what you brought,
True in honour to those you fought. 

Kinsmen, rejoice, the circle spins,
The four corners, rid of these sins,
And soon again the halls open,
Welcoming maid, king and house-men. 

Now, see to peace between brothers,
And hail to the aiming lovers :
They only hear the beats inside,

Forever keep the dreams you had,
Glory unleashed, all shall be glad :
The fields will grow, the sun won’t hide !

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