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
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