May you become as weak as the fiend, Loki, who was snared by all the gods. May your bones split asunder, may your guts burst, may your farting never stop, neither day nor night.
Rouse your blood from your thigh and say: I carve you eight áss-runes, nine nauð-runes, thirteen þurs-runes, which are to afflict your belly with great shitting and shooting pains, and all these may afflict your belly with very great farting. Write these staves on white calfskin with your blood. You’ll sit as if burning, your hair falling out, may your clothes be ripped up, unless you want to have me, you easy woman. It will be allotted to you to be unmarried unless you love me, you shall freeze in your feet, and never get honor or happiness. Thus it will like you are burning your bones and even worse in your fleshy parts. That you can neither endure nor thrive unless you love me with all your heart. This I ask of Óðinn and of all those who how to read women-runes. You can’t sit anywhere, nor stand to be anywhere unless you love me. I look at you and you feel love and affection for me with all your heart. If you want to bewilder a woman so that she finds he way to no one except you, make a hole in the floor where she goes over it and put etin-spear blood and carve a ring on the outside of it and her name and these staves: mould- þurs and maður inverted threefold, blað, nauð, homla, and gagpaldar, and read this conjuration:
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