Hail to Nott, Old Woman of the Night,
The hem of your black robe twinkles
With the multitudinous stars as you go,
And we watch, and marvel at the Mysteries
You flaunt each night in your passing.
Hail, Hrimfaxi’s rider, dewdrops sparkling
On your dark bridle, nourishing the Earth.
Hag of the Night, Sacred Elder,
Silver-haired like the clouds across the Moon,
Mother of Day, Mother of Earth,
Mother of the Sea-Lover whose ships breast the horizon,
Lover of Jotun, Alf, and Van, and any
Whose upturned face in the moonlight
You find lovely in your old, old eyes.
Bless us, Nott, with fine sleeping
And may your dark horse ride gently in our dreams.