As a boy, I left home
To return home as a full grown man.
On the Knarr, I took the oar in my hand
Alone, I set my sail.
Eyes wet, tears wiped by my muddy hand.
Father, I am not weak.
As I guide my sail,
The enemy caught his eyes on the raven.
And as a slave, I shall serve him
Father, I am not weak.
The whip roars and the wound bleeds
In oppression, I became strong.
In duel fell their chieftain.
And father, I am coming home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem