I know a religious poem !
I know I hung on that windswept tree,
Swung there for 9 longnights,
Wounded by my own blade,
Bloodied for Odin,
Myself and offering to myself :
Bound to the treeThat no man knows,
Whither the roots on it run.
None gave me bread ,
None gave me Fri.k.
Down to the deepest depths I peered
Until I spied the Runes.
With a roaring cry I seized them up ,
Then dizzy and fainting, I fell.
Well- being I won
And wisdom too.
I grew and took joy in my growth :
From a word to a word,
I was led to a word,
From a deed to another deed.
From the old Norse
(ca. A.D. 1200)
Rose turn the oven on low and dry up a nice nug !- Odin say it's O.K.-- this once time !