|
Ic
wæs be sonde, sæwealle neah,
|
|
Rooted near water, raised by the shore,
|
|
|
æt merefaroþe, minum
gewunade
|
|
I was earth-fast, bound in a bed,
|
|
|
frumstaþole fæst.
Fea
ænig wæs
|
|
My native land. Few
men walked
|
|
|
monna cynnes, þæt
minne þær
|
|
In this wilderness, watched as the wave
|
|
|
on anæde eard beheolde,
|
5 |
Played round my body with its dark arms
|
5 |
|
ac mec uhtna gehwam yð sio
brune
|
|
At dusk and dawn. I
did not dream
|
|
|
lagufæðme beleolc. Lyt ic
wende
|
|
That someday I should speak, slip words
|
|
|
þæt ic ær oþþe sið
æfre sceolde
|
|
Over benches, mouthless in the mead-hall.
|
|
|
ofer meodubence muðleas sprecan,
|
|
That is a miracle to men who do not know
|
|
|
wordum wrixlan. Þæt is wundres dæl,
|
10 |
This craft--how the point of a knife,
|
10 |
|
on sefan searolic þam þe
swylc ne conn,
|
|
A skilled right hand and a man's intent
|
|
|
hu mec seaxes ord ond seo swiþre
hond,
|
|
Tooling together should shape me so
|
|
|
eorles ingeþonc ond ord
somod,
|
|
That boldly I bring you my message,
|
|
|
þingum geþydan, þæt
ic wiþ þe sceolde
|
|
Singing in silence so no man in the wider
|
|
|
for unc anum twam ærendspræce
|
15 |
World may share our words and understand.
|
15 |
|
abeodan bealdlice, swa hit beorna
ma
|
|
|
|
|
uncre wordcwidas widdor ne mænden.
|
|
|
|
iddle
58
