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Arinbjorn and I went back to his home. On the way Arinbjorn suggested that the only way I could survive would be to make a verse that would prove to the king that I respected him and would serve him well.
“And not one of your regular verses” he added. “It must be a drapa, a verse that rhymes and eulogizes King Eirik.”
I stayed up all night writing my drapa to the king.
The next morning Arinbjorn presented me to the king and asked if I may speak first. He allowed me to and this is what I said.
I took and deep breath and glanced a look at King Eirik to see if I was making any headway with his feelings towards me; and then I continued on:
Now these words above may not be my exact words. That Snorri Sturluson fellow and all of the other fellows who have translated my words may have made a few errors. In fact, I am beginning to think that they may have taken some poetic liberties of their own and tried their hand at it. But who can blame them? It was a lot of work to translate Icelandic to English and still make it rhyme.
Yet they still remain my words and my intent to show King Eirik my repentance; and of course to save my own hide.
waldotomosky 
You are a creative genius!
Blush, blush, blush. But for what? For taking a saga and breaking it up into readable parts. Heck, I couldn’t even have translated a word of it. But thank you for your kind thoughts.
that’s really great!
Thanks, but I can not take credit for it. I think we should make a Novena for Santa Snorri.
I loved the comment, “t was a lot of work to translate Icelandic to English and still make it rhyme.” The Icelandic language is full of eths and thins (as in Othin, not din).
What a poem! I trust he made the right impression (we’ll soon learn about it).
What horns, those are in the photo. It makes me think of folk here in Africa who take a certain animal as a totem. When the person is exorcised, they more often than not growl like a lion, or bellow like a bull, whichever is their totem. Makes me wonder about the guy in the photo.
I hope NOT to find out what the guy in the horns does. He is a little too frightening for me.
That’s quite a poem. I have to admit, I didn’t read every word, but ‘liked’ on the strength of it’s determination. Cheers —
I wish I could claim it – – – but alas – – – I can not.