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Is
þes middangeard missenlicum
|
|
Middle-earth is made lovely in unmatched
|
|
|
wisum gewlitegad, wrættum
gefrætwad.
|
|
Ways rich and rare. Across
the hall
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|
|
Ic
seah sellic þing singan on ræcede;
|
|
I saw a creature singing-nothing wilder
|
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sio hæfde wæstum
wundorlicran.
|
|
In the haunts of men. Her
shape is strange.
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|
|
Niþerweard
onhwyrfed wæs neb hyre,
|
5 |
Her beak hung down, her hands and feet,
|
5 |
|
fet ond folme fugele gelice;
|
|
Slung up like a shouldered bird–she waits
|
|
|
no hwæþre fleogan mæg
ne fela gongan,
|
|
Song-hungry in the hall of earls her hour
|
|
|
hwæþre feþegeorn
fremman onginneð,
|
|
Of craft. She cannot feast
or fly about,
|
|
|
gecoren cræftum, cyrreð
geneahhe
|
|
Drink man's delight (she dreams of skill,
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|
oft ond gelome eorlum on gemonge,
|
10 |
A task, her art), but begins to dance
|
10 |
|
siteð æt symble, sæles
bideþ,
|
|
On a road of hands-brash mute plays dumb,
|
|
|
hwonne ær heo cræft hyre
cyþan mote
|
|
Gathering glory while a beautiful haunting
|
|
|
werum on wonge. Ne heo þær wiht þigeð
|
|
Song sails through her strange foot–
|
|
|
þæs þe him æt blisse
beornas habbað.
|
|
A gift of sound. How her long dangling
|
|
|
Deor
domes georn, hio dumb wunað;
|
15 |
Legs
chant is a wonderful riddle.
|
15 |
|
hwæþre hyre is on fote faegre
hleoþor winlicu woðgiefu. Wrætlic me þinceð,
|
|
Jeweled, naked, proud of rings–
|
|
|
hu seo wiht mæge wordum
lacan
|
|
She sings like a mighty sister,
|
|
|
þurh fot neoþan. Frætwed
hyrstum,
|
|
Guardian of air, bearing bass brothers
|
|
|
hafað hyre on halse, þonne
hio hord warað,
|
|
Droned on her neck. Let
the song-lifter,
|
|
|
baru, beagum deall, broþor
sine--,
|
20 |
Truth-shaper, name this creature.
|
20 |
|
mæg mid mægne. Micel is
to hycgenne
|
|
|
|
|
wisum woðboran, hwæt
sio wiht sie.
|
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|
iddle
29
