Lord, deliver us from the fury of the Northmen
Who raid England’s coasts and leave naught but ghosts
In the ruined halls where they’ve been;
Who plunder and torch every barn, house, and porch
And spare not a deerhound within;
Who stain the ground red with the blood of the dead –
These heathens hearts blackened with sin,
The sight of whose sails great sorrow entails –
Lord, deliver us from the fury of the Northmen!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem