For the last day of NaPoWriMo, I wanted to return to my initial intention for the month: a poem for/about the goddess Idunn. The included lines of Old Norse are from the poem Hrafnagaldr Óðins (stanza 6) and transcribed from the song Iduna by Faun—which is also the melody of the “song” attested in my poem. You don’t need to run to Google—the first line of every stanza is my twist on the translation of the third line.

And with that, April is done! I may revisit some of the prompts over the next few weeks, especially the ones I chose not to do, and see what more I can come up with.

Poem prompt: “Our final resource is MatterPort Discover, a site that lets you take virtual tours of all kinds of museums, ranging from the National Museum of Ireland to the Bicycle Museum of America.

Finally, here’s the last prompt of this year’s Na/GloPoWriMo (optional, as always)! In his meandering poem, ‘Grateful Dead Tapes,’ poet Ed Skoog riffs on the eponymous tapes that he’s found in a secondhand store, remembering various instances of hearing the band, both live and in recording. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that also describes different times in which you’ve heard the same band or piece of music across your lifetime.”

I Hear You, My Goddess

Dwelling in the dales  
I hear your song in the dancing lights on the lake 
Dvelur í dölum 
I hear your song on the cusp of sleep and wake 

Curious goddess 
I hear your song in the native language on my tongue 
Dís forvitin 
I hear your song in the blow of foreign words from my lungs 

From the roots of the Great Ash 
I hear your song in the trilling of a titmouse 
Yggdrasils frá aski 
I hear your song in the hum-drum of a grouse 

Gently sinking down 
I hear your song in my evening bath, moonlit 
Hnigin 
I hear your song in the rumble of that mosh pit 

Of alfen race, fairy face, magic touch 
I hear your song in the smiling wrinkles of a dying man   
Álfa ættar 
I hear your song in the soft bleat of a sleeping lamb 

Idunn, I adore your name
I hear your song in the friction of my lover's shirt on skin 
Idunni hétu 
I hear your song when others say we start to sin 

You are Ivaldi's youngest elder daughter 
I hear your song in every bite I beg for not to perish 
Ívalds eldri yngsta barna 
I hear your song and it's forever you I cherish.