The field of the gods is quiet tonight,
without corn, without barley.
The god sleeps, theft unseen.
The field of the gods is empty tonight,
without ward, without guardian.
Ripened corn, stolen with falsehood.
The field of the gods, without white barley,
the bull's red blood spilt on the ground.
A serpent has bound the Thunderer's feet.
The field of the gods, plundered by giants,
without land, without claim.
A mother's three sons plunder at twilight.