Völuspá
The Vǫluspá, or Prophecy of the Völva ‘Seeress’, is the first and best known poem of the Poetic Edda. The poem takes the form of a völva speaking to Odin, and describes creation of the world and its destruction at the time of Ragnarök.
Völuspá: the first eight verses
helgar kindir,
meiri ok minni,
mögu Heimdallar.
Vildu at ek, Valföðr,
vel fyr telja
forn spjöll fira,
þau er fremst um man.
Ek man jötna
ár um borna,
þá er forðum mik
fœdda höfðu.
Níu man ek heima,
níu íviðjur,
mjötvið mæran,
fyr mold neðan.
Ár var alda
þar er Ymir byggði,
vara sandr né sær
né svalar unnir.
Jörð fannsk æva
né upphiminn,
gap var ginnunga,
en gras hvergi.
Áðr Burs synir
bjöðum um yppðu,
þeir er Miðgarð
mæran skópu.
Sól skein sunnan
á salar steina,
þá var grund gróin
grœnum lauki.
Sól varp sunnan,
sinni mána,
hendi inni hœgri
um himinjódyr.
Sól þat né vissi
hvar hon sali átti,
stjörnur þat né vissu
hvar þær staði áttu,
Máni þat né vissi
hvat hann megins átti.
Þá gengu regin öll
á rökstóla,
ginnheilög goð,
ok um þat gættusk:
nótt ok niðjum
nöfn um gáfu,
morgin hétu
ok miðjan dag,
undorn ok aptan,
árum at telja.
Hittusk æsir
á Iðavelli,
þeir er hörg ok hof
hátimbruðu,
afla lögðu,
auð smíðuðu,
tangir skópu,
ok tól gørðu.
Teflðu í túni,
teitir váru,
var þeim vettergis
vant ór gulli,
unz þrjár kvámu
þursa meyjar,
ámáttkar mjök,
ór Jötunheimum.
Hearing I ask
from the holy races,
From Heimdall’s sons,
both high and low;
Thou wilt, Valfather,
that well I relate
Old tales I remember
of men long ago.
I remember yet
the giants of yore,
Who gave me bread
in the days gone by;
Nine worlds I knew,
the nine in the tree
With mighty roots
beneath the mold.
Of old was the age
when Ymir lived;
Sea nor cool waves
nor sand there were;
Earth had not been,
nor heaven above,
But a yawning gap,
and grass nowhere.
Then Bur’s sons lifted
the level land,
Mithgarth the mighty
there they made;
The sun from the south
warmed the stones of earth,
And green was the ground
with growing leeks.
The sun, the sister
of the moon, from the south
Her right hand cast
over heaven’s rim;
No knowledge she had
where her home should be,
The moon knew not
what might was his,
The stars knew not
where their stations were.
Then sought the gods
their assembly-seats,
The holy ones,
and council held;
Names then gave they
to noon and twilight,
Morning they named,
and the waning moon,
Night and evening,
the years to number.
At Ithavoll met
the mighty gods,
Shrines and temples
they timbered high;
Forges they set, and
they smithied ore,
Tongs they wrought,
and tools they fashioned.
In their dwellings at peace
they played at tables,
Of gold no lack
did the gods then know,–
Till thither came
up giant-maids three,
Huge of might,
out of Jotunheim.