Listen, skin-clad walker. Before the line, before the grain, I am the black peat, the oak-root’s brain. You leave no scar upon my back, Your fire is small, your shadow black. Feed my soil your marrow when you freeze, And I will lend you deer beneath my trees. Slāno-s tūi, medu-monis. (Health to you, earth-mother) Nī gabū-mī talamōn, nī binnā-mī derwā-s. (I do not take the earth, I do not strike the oaks) Sāitlo-m mei legi-ti subū tūi. (My life-span lies beneath you) Anā-mī dubro-n, ed-mī cāro-n, bewo-s es-mī tūi. (I drink the water, I eat the deer, I am alive belonging to you) Oros, māta eorþā! Cledobos mei es-ti tei. (Hear me, mother earth! My sword belongs to you) Gabrā-mī isarno-n in unco-n, ad-berā-mī arganto-n in bogio-n. (I take iron into the soil, I offer silver into the bog) Mapono-s eido-s Cernunno-s windo-s wedyo-ntisme-nis. (Young Lord Maponos and white Cernunnos guide us) Is-mī Brigas - bē-mī tei, samali gwello-s in borei. (I am of the Brigantes - I exist for you, like grass in the morning) From the peat to the stone, from the stone to the blade, We are bound to the soil by the blood-debts we made! Every crown, every plow, every boundary line, Returns to the dark at the end of all time! Audi me, Genius Loci, spiritus huius terrae frigidae. (Hear me, Genius Loci, spirit of this cold land) Pono lapidem et cippum; Terminus fines meos regit. (I place the stone and boundary marker; Terminus rules my borders) Macto gallum et effundo vinum super limen. (I sacrifice a cockerel and pour out wine upon the threshold) Non sum hostis; miles veteranus hic panem quaero. (I am no enemy; a veteran soldier seeking bread here) Terra tua me pascit, ego tibi altare fico. (Your earth feeds me, I build an altar for you) Ek heiti Þorsteinn, kominn yfir vestan-haf. (My name is Thorstein, come across the western sea) Ek brenn eld í kringum land þetta; eldr bindi útgard. (I burn fire around this land; fire binds the untamed wildness) Heill séttu, landvættir! Ek færi yður mjólk ok bygg. (Be hale, spirits of the land! I bring you milk and barley) Hér reisi ek öndvegissúlur mínar í jörðu þinni. (Here I raise my high-seat pillars in your earth) Land þetta er mitt, en ek tilheyri þér. (This land is mine, but I belong to you) From the peat to the stone, from the stone to the blade, We are bound to the soil by the blood-debts we made! Every crown, every plow, every boundary line, Returns to the dark at the end of all time! Eala, eorðe, eorðan modor! Hal wes þu, folde. (Hail, earth, mother of earth! Be whole, O fold) Ic bere mæsse-sod and halig-wæter to feower healfa þisses æcres. (I bear mass-sod and holy water to the four corners of this field) Gebletsode sie þes grund mid clænan sæde. (Blessed be this ground with clean seed) Ic gange geond þa gemæro; ic eom þin man. (I walk across the boundaries; I am your man) I hear them all beneath your tread: The legionary, the Viking dead, The Brigante’s bone, the Saxon plow. And what do you bring to me now? I’ve come up t’ fell through t’ beck and moss. No blood on t’ stone, no fire to toss. Just heavy boots on an old pack-way, Listening to what you’ve got to say. I am just a tenant here on t' hill, And you’ll be here when my bones are still. Slāno-s tūi... Hal wes þu, folde... Till the bones are still...
