A war ruled in ancient times

Between the holy races, the Vanirs and the Aces

When peace came, the deities united

From a bowl filled with spit rose Kvasir



"Wise he becomes, he drinks the holy mead

the blood of Kvasir, but not he who drinks

from the spilled mead that dripped

from the falcon"



Kvasir the father of poets by dwarf hands he died

From the blood of Kvasir they made the mead of poets,

the holy drink

Fjalar and Galar once murdered Gilling the Giant,

the father of Suttung

Enraged, Suttung demanded justice to be fullfilled

The blood of Kvasir became the mead of Suttung



Grimne flew out from Valhalla

In the shape of the falcon

To the home of Giants and to Nitberg

Bauge was decived, and Gunnlod betrayed



Out from Nitberg the falcon flew

Finally Kvasir should return to Aasgard

But when the mead disappeared Suttung became furious

Out, in the shape of the eagle he followed

Sadly, Grimne had to spill from his valuable treasure

Which led to the making of the false poets

The falcon flew home to his domains

And Suttung flew into the flames of Tjalve