Svitjod
...and though this land is dark and oldit shines with stories yet untold;
its river's dances brave and bold.
It's held enthralled by bitter snow
where hunters hunt with gleaming bow
and ancient mists in valleys glow.
The southern lands sprout fields of rye -
its ranging hills and blood-red sky
resounds an eagles' lonely cry.
Before we laid down roads to roam
this was the land of elf and gnome
and I am proud to call it home.
Poetry by An-ders
Read 589 times
Written on 2011-01-13 at 16:11
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