BreakingAustur
We are the one to break it to you
In a land where mountains rise and rivers flow,
A town lies nestled, where legends grow.
Named for a poet, fierce and wise,
His tales echo beneath the Icelandic skies.
With whispers of sagas, both old and new,
What place is this, where stories brew?
In the east it sits, where the mists do gather,
A name that hints at history, a rhythm, a lather.
What town am I, where nature and lore intertwine,
A site of magic, both eerie and divine?
What am I?