Norwegian Trolls Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

In lands of ice and ancient lore,
Lived trolls, where mountains rose and soar.
From Norse tales, a powerful race,
In wildwoods held their dwelling place.

Of stone and cave, their homes were deep,
While sunlight touched, they fell asleep,
And turned to rock, a silent form,
Safe from the sun, escaping harm.

They shifted shapes, a magic art,
To beast or thing, they played their part.
A cat's soft purr, a horse's stride,
A log, a yarn ball, where they'd hide.

The Jotuls grand, with mighty hand,
Carved valleys deep across the land.
Made mountains rise, a rugged sight,
With every step, both day and night.

The Billy Goats, a tale well known,
A troll beneath, on a bridge alone.
His dimness shown, his anger sparked,
By clever goats, his plans were barked.

Though times have changed, and tales grow new,
Their spirit lives in shades of blue.
In names of places, strong and true,
The trolls remain, forever in view.

In place names still, their memory lies,
Trollstigen's path beneath the skies.
Trollhättan's falls, a rushing sound,
In modern tales, their echoes found.

From giants old, to creatures grim,
A fear of wilds, residing within.
A symbol strong, of pagan past,
Their legend lives, forever fast.

Tor M.Solvang