In halls where golden rafters gleam, Where shields ring soft like distant rain, The Valkyries move through waking dream— Bright keepers of the honored slain. They stride between the feasting fires, Their armor lit with dawn’s first spark; Each step recalls the battle’s choirs, Each gaze holds memory of the dark. They chose the brave on blood‑stained fields, Where ravens traced the twilight air; They lifted souls from shattered shields And bore them home with tender care. Now in Valhalla’s endless day, They pour the mead, they guard the door; They watch the einherjar at play, Preparing for the final war. And when the wolf breaks heaven’s chain, When fate calls out its last command, The Valkyries will ride again— A storm of light across the land.