{"id":7642,"date":"2021-03-31T12:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-03-31T16:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.nd.edu\/manuscript-studies\/?page_id=7642"},"modified":"2021-04-01T08:59:44","modified_gmt":"2021-04-01T12:59:44","slug":"exeter-book-riddle-5","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.nd.edu\/manuscript-studies\/translations\/exeter-book-riddle-5\/","title":{"rendered":"Exeter Book Riddle 5"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/a>
Early medieval English<\/em> shield-fittings and boss, uncovered during the Sutton Hoo excavation (1938)<\/em>, reassembled and housed at the British Museum.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Old English Riddle<\/em> 5 <\/strong>(solution: scyld<\/em>)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ic eom anhaga      iserne wund,
bille gebennad,      beadoweorca s\u00e6d,
ecgum werig.      Oft ic wig seo,
frecne feohtan.      Frofre ne wene,
\u00fe\u00e6t me geoc cyme      gu\u00f0gewinnes,
\u00e6r ic mid \u00e6ldum      eal forwur\u00f0e,
ac mec hnossia\u00f0      homera lafe,
heardecg heoroscearp,      hondweorc smi\u00fea,
bita\u00f0 in burgum;      ic abidan sceal
la\u00feran gemotes.      N\u00e6fre l\u00e6cecynn
on folcstede      findan meahte,
\u00feara \u00fee mid wyrtum      wunde geh\u00e6lde,
ac me ecga dolg      eacen weor\u00f0a\u00f0
\u00feurh dea\u00f0slege      dagum ond nihtum.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHip Hop Shield Riddle\u201d: A Modern Translation by Aaron Hostetter<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alone is only me, loneliness my claim,
iron boiling in my blood, iron all the pain
Glanced through by the glaive,
I be battered by the blade
Saddened by these battle-works, filled up by the stain,
Tired edges in my bones, weary splinters ingrown
Cultivate in conflict zones, reap crops of ashen foes.
Comfort ain\u2019t coming soon, when does it ever come?
Bites of blades every day \u2014 buffet for all this hate
This body don\u2019t go on forever, someday it will go,
though everywhere the men are there, everywhere I know
Lanced by a thousand lances, beaten up & down,
Venom in they fangs, \u00a0they artfully arranged
Killin points keened to keenness,
Every edge cleaned to meanness
Blacksmiths birthin snakes,
midwifin all these bone breaks
I\u2019m all what\u2019s left for this mess, \u00a0
holes & tears in my flesh
Heirs of hammers hailin down
beds of anvils now they pound
Bitin me like biters bite,
battle verses no one writes
Spittin out just for spite,
mouthless mouthin on the mike
Lastin through this loathsome moot,
Can\u2019t wind my wounds with healin roots
What kind of doctor fleshes me, where is their academy?
Deathly gashes growin greater,
yawnin jaws from the hater \u2014
Am I just a shield to you, bulwark for the chosen few?
At least you got your shoulder-brothers \u2014
so who would stand at MY shoulder?

Dr. Hostetter discusses his interpretative approach and translation principles in his translator’s preface<\/a>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For more translations by Dr. Hostetter, see his Old English Poetry Project<\/a><\/em>.
<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n