And if you hear beneath the rowan tree
A howling wolf, the sound spells luck to thee,
And luck shall helmed warriors bring to thee,
If thou such warriors art the first to see.
Facing the sinking and late shining light
Of the Moon's sister, warriors should not fight.
Victory is theirs who, eager for the fray,
Can clearly see to order their array.
I hold it no occasion for delight
When a man stumbles as he goes to fight;