Great roots delve deep where secrets sleep,
Beneath the Norns’ white clay,
While branches high in starlit sky
Hold nine worlds in their sway.
The dragon gnaws at frozen claws,
The eagle watches keen,
Through winter's bite and endless night,
The Ash stands ever green.
A bridge of wood, where Odin stood
To catch the falling stave,
The ancient spine of all design,
From cradle to the grave.