A coldest sharp edge of the ruthless Gungnir Cutting the chest, swallowing the blood Rupture his ribs through... Ingnawing in Crust and Substance of Tree, Drunk by vital red, saturated by clay Of the Hanged One Who made SelfSacrifice for Himself... Nine nights, nine Halls He enriched them by Blood and stared into Abyss Half dead, half alive... He stepped En TaakeHall av Helheim But Jotnerunar laid under another foot Of Hangmens Forefather Who was hanged Himself. AshTree He possessed, Oaken Groves are thine, Silent forests amongst the dark, Branches open wide twisted claws to embrace, Grab you with rows of gallows. But Dark Shadow of Him, chained to the cliff, Groaned in waiting, writhing in suffer, Evading the venom of malignant serpent... Til OdinMordersk Ulv shall be unleashed. You said you will surely recognize Him... So well, still you can?!
hanged, nine, ashtree, taakehall, ingnawing