Laga, Ragalor — We Carry Your Names

No gull above… no wind below…
Only the water moving slow…
Rune by rune, the dusk became…
Name by name, we called the slain…
At the bow, I held them one by one
Small carved lives beneath the dying sun “eirik red
Oar”—I gave him to the tide “sten
Iron-Hand”—who fought beside my side
“Runa… Hakon… Torvald Black Sail…”
The mist breathed back each name into the gale