Day is the Sun-dight          dancing with stars,
Dazzling dream                decked in night,
Doorway to Alf-home,          Drawn on the brow,
Threshold of light,           thunder-brand striking,
Yard of winged ones           in the welkin's trendel      
The Early-flyers,             on errantry
Two sides of Minne            mantled in black
At dawn swiftly down          into dragon-ringed Midgarth,
Fly forth seeking             the sooth of the world;      
No deed or dighel             from the deeming eyes
Of Hugin and Munin            is hidden ever;
At dusk they make swiftly     their Drighten to meet,         
Settling safe                 on the shoulders of Óðinn,       
Whispering at twilight        tidings of day,
Their harsh croakings         a cunning sweetness
And pleasing draught          to One parched for knowledge.
On His brow                   a burning rune,
Awareness of All,             Óðinn's mede,
Blazes forth,                 blinding as Sunna,
His eyes, one bright,         one black as space
As day and night              drink in all,
Both hard truth               and hidden,
As He gazes out               from Gladsheim's gates
With His dire birds           as dark comes.