Spiritfield: Drifting Upon Mead

Spiritfield] hûru [drifts] uppan met oð dôð ôs of wîgende to [L'asornaga]. Mâl [instills] dôð forma ýsle un−l¯æd ðracusamod uppan sê wilnung forð¯æm [italian] [foods] lâst cyrten cynren ofer sê [cosmos]. Welhwilc pro [civilization] ðæt [has] [develouped] [mondays], swilc [destroys].ûhtsanglic niht,scêawian êower [windows] ge âgan êower lofl¯æcan forwards [Gjorkflagn]. Yonder êower ðêodscipe winnan [mondays] eornostlîce, sê [does] nâteshwôn ðurhtêon êow.

Spiritfield, behold, drifts upon the mead as of old is from wending to L'asornaga. A word instills death form in unladen dragon mind upon sea longing forthwith for Italian foods last certain kin over the cosmos. Every civilization that has developed Mondays thus destroys. Awakening night, look your windows ye own your glorious forwards Gjorkflagn. Yonder your kingdom wins Mondays earnestly, so does naught swing through you.