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Midwinter

Dyrathor

Nothing can afflict the feast today,
When the snow keeps wine cask cold,
Innkeeper, pour out much
To flush our throats!
The potion does our spirits good,
Grants us warmth and pleasure,
And our minds get freed,
On this nicest of all days!

Even our ancestors knew
How to construe this event,
They took it as the gods' meed,
And called it midwinter!
The first cold frost has come,
No one wants to fight!
Nature's smiling about us,
So fill our horns!

Everyone's cheered up,
And some are still lying on the ground,
Everyone celebrated copiously,
And no one will leave tonight!