A grand tale told by fireside, this legend never died
Gruff voices sang high praises of a maiden fair and pure
Though know her they did not, their spirits rose and deep they sighed
In longing trapped, enchanted by her magical allure
Troubled souls and tired feet so gracefully she eased
Wounds she mended, bones she set and kissed away the pain
Aching hearts that longed for love she graciously appeased
Lonely were they never more at beckon of her name
Gathered here in brotherhood, the scent of burning pine
And into flames were worries cast for just this night at least
They drew on pipes and drew in words that painted her in mind
Merry in spirit, more spirits they drank til slumber their laughter ceased
Dream sweetly they did through howling wind and frost that bit the air
That death would find them mattered not, for so would maiden fair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem