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When Ragnarok was done and the doom of the gods was sealed,
The plain of Vigrid made a wasteland of death and destruction.
After the sword of Surt had burned the nine worlds
and the wolves Skoll and Hati had devoured the sun and moon.
All was quiet and still in the darkness for the longest time.
Yet there was hope still for life anew.
One place was safe from the flaming sword of the fire-giant.
In the only swathe of green remaining on a cold, watery, sphere,
Lif and Lifthrasir slept safely in Hodmimir's Forest.
They alone had survived humanities end, hidden from harm.
The three winters slowly turned to spring and new life,
While the cosmos was healed and the world made green again.
Gods, surviving or reborn, embarked on peaceable tasks.
They crafted again the most beautiful of garden worlds.
The Earth, remade, rose once more from the seas.
Verdant and ready for life to spring forth in abundance.
So all the descendants of the last, the only, two
were given a gift of unimaginable beauty and magnificence
A shining jewel of green and blue once more,
Silently making its way through the cosmos.
No war could ever spoil this harmonious estate.
Hatred and fear would never be seen or felt there.
Wickedness and misery could not exist in this new place,
and all would be well again with Men and Gods alike.
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