2020.06.02.
Heming and Gyvri
Good evening, you witch-mother,that digs with your nose in the fire.
Would you lend me house for the night,
so late on the solstice evening.
You may hold house by me,
but I will make you fall.
Who are you, a son of a whore,
so late on the soltice night?
I am no son of a whore,
such a thing you must not believe.
I am Heming the young
in the mountain with you I will live.
Oh, so you are Heming the young
who in the mountain with me will live,
then I must off other mountains,
and to our wedding live.
The Gyvra-mother took the robe on,
of eighteen bulls skins.
It was Heming the young,
he began to dread.
They took the horse out of the barn,
was eighteen cubit under nine.
The Gyvra-mother in the saddle ran
an the legs dragged to the ground.
It was Heming the young,
he stared up from there.
Then he saw where the keys hang,
he saw both big and small.
Then he opened one of the doors,
through the other he went:
Found there the fair maiden,
she shone like pure gold.
Then he took as much gold
he could find.
He took the maiden on his arm,
and put her on his skis.
Then he went off the high mountain,
and further down below.
There he met the Gyvri,
with eighteen of skins.
Listen, Heming the young,
I will threathen you.
May I have the maiden back,
and you the gold keep.
And it was Heming the young,
turned his eyes towards east.
There the fairest maiden up comes,
she will give you all comfort.