Conjure spirit, with sybarite word,
Amulet charms, never yet heard;
Carve them with rune signs,
Carve them by fjord-
Rushing waters sing cloudier forward.
Conjure a gypsy and her shew-stone,
Rings on her fingers, barely a crone;
Her third eye a witness,
Her two eyes make three-
For mother was witch and father was tree.
Conjure up madness, idolatry, rage;
Black magic shouting from every image;
Like covetous eyes breed
A covetous breech-
Upon pain of death, the bloodier deed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Me being a knewt was a little bit worried for a while.... I love your poem... it is really full of adventure and excitement....what a style it is fresh and fun Jim Troy