On the slope of a naked rock somewhere in
Ska?inawjo - the isles of Ska?is - a blonde,
Fur-clad man immortalises his memory of
Mannus, the oldest Ing
A large manlike shape is engraved in the
Rock; bloodred in colour, with a large phallus
His hands are stretching toward the sky
Mannus, the son of Tuisto,
Made sure his tribe survived
The cold north together with his sons;
Inguz, Herminuz and Istwo
Tuisto's heart is warmed by
The sight of his descendants;
He knows the gods are not forgotten
Then - he reasons - there is hope after all,
For the coming generations