I hail the powerful soul of Thor, defender of the
downtrodden and one who sets things to right,
God of the raging storm and the awful destruction
it brings, Lord of lightning strikes and thunder claps,
rowdy, raucous, and reveling son of crafty Óðinn
and the lovely Giantess Fjörgyn;
never, Thor, have you encountered an adversary
in the Nine Realms that you backed down from,
even when whole hosts were arrayed against you.
You can crush mountains with Mjölnir, grasp anything
you please with Járngreipr, and wearing Megingjörð
drag bullish rivers from their bed, changing
their swiftly rushing courses entirely.
When the elements are out of alignment,
and divine order is in danger of unraveling
it is you, Thor, who rushes in to fight
the cause of the corruption, injustice and hate
and through their defeat you hallow all once more,
O Prince of Ásgarðr and delight of your father.