Tindastóll, grey and ghostly,
glimmers three leagues away.
Mælifell, towering mutely,
measures the darkening bay.
Drangey looms in the deep there,
dinning with seabird songs;
under its walls go wheeling
whales in clamorous throngs.
Grazing its grassy summit,
a grey ram wanders wide
where Illugi drinks the darkness
by his dying brother’s side.
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