Medieval Poems Iv
Medieval Poems IV
IN LIBRARIOS
by Thomas Campion
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Booksellers laud authors for novel editions
as pimps praise their whores for exotic positions.
Brut (circa 1100 AD, written by Layamon, an excerpt)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Now he stands on a hill overlooking the Avon,
seeing steel fishes girded with swords in the stream,
their swimming days done,
their scales a-gleam like gold-plated shields,
their fish-spines floating like shattered spears.
Tegner's Drapa
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
I heard a voice, that cried,
“Balder the beautiful lies dead, lies dead . . .”
a voice like the flight of white cranes
intent on a sun sailing high overhead—
but a sun now irretrievably setting.
Then I saw the sun’s corpse
—dead beyond all begetting—
borne through disconsolate skies
as blasts from the Nifel-heim rang out with dread,
“Balder lies dead, our fair Balder lies dead! . . .”
Lost—the sweet runes of his tongue,
so sweet every lark hushed its singing!
Lost, lost forever—his beautiful face,
the grace of his smile, all the girls’ hearts wild-winging!
O, who ever thought such strange words might be said,
as “Balder lies dead, gentle Balder lies dead! . . .”
Unholy Trinity
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Man has three enemies:
himself, the world, and the devil.
Of these the first is, by far,
the most irresistible evil.
True Wealth
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
There is more to being rich
than merely having;
the wealthiest man can lose
everything not worth saving.
The Rose
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The rose merely blossoms
and never asks why:
heedless of her beauty,
careless of every eye.
The Rose
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
The rose lack “reasons”
and merely sways with the seasons;
she has no ego
but whoever put on such a show?
Eternal Time
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Eternity is time,
time eternity,
except when we
are determined to "see."
Visions
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Our souls possess two eyes:
one examines time,
the other visions
eternal and sublime.
Godless
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God is absolute Nothingness
beyond our sense of time and place;
the more we try to grasp Him,
The more He flees from our embrace.
The Source
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Water is pure and clean
when taken at the well-head:
but drink too far from the Source
and you may well end up dead.
Ceaseless Peace
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Unceasingly you seek
life's ceaseless wavelike motion;
I seek perpetual peace, all storms calmed.
Whose is the wiser notion?
Well Written
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Friend, cease!
Abandon all pretense!
You must yourself become
the Writing and the Sense.
Worm Food
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
No worm is buried
so deep within the soil
that God denies it food
as reward for its toil.
Mature Love
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
New love, like a sparkling wine, soon fizzes.
Mature love, calm and serene, abides.
God's Predicament
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
God cannot condemn those with whom he would dwell,
or He would have to join them in hell!
Clods
by Angelus Silesius
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
A ruby
is not lovelier
than a dirt clod,
nor an angel
more glorious
than a frog.
A Proverb from Winfred's Time
anonymous Old English poem, circa 757-786
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
The procrastinator puts off purpose,
never initiates anything marvelous,
never succeeds, and dies alone.
2.
The late-deed-doer delays glory-striving,
never indulges daring dreams,
never succeeds, and dies alone.
3.
Often the deed-dodger avoids ventures,
never succeeds, and dies alone.
Winfrid or Wynfrith is better known as Saint Boniface (c. 675–754). This may be the second-oldest English poem, after "Caedmon's Hymn."
Franks Casket Runes
anonymous Old English poems, circa 700
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
1.
The fish flooded the shore-cliffs;
the sea-king wept when he swam onto the shingle:
whale's bone.
2.
Romulus and Remus, twin brothers weaned in Rome
by a she-wolf, far from their native land.
Elegy for a little girl, lost
by Michael R. Burch
for my mother, Christine Ena Burch
. . . qui laetificat juventutem meam . . .
She was the joy of my youth,
and now she is gone.
. . . requiescat in pace . . .
May she rest in peace.
. . . amen . . .
Amen.
I was touched by this Latin prayer, which I discovered in a novel I read as a teenager. I later decided to incorporate it into a poem. From what I now understand, “ad deum qui laetificat juventutem meam” means “to the God who gives joy to my youth,” but I am sticking with my original interpretation: a lament for a little girl at her funeral.
Bede's Death Song
ancient Old English/Anglo-Saxon lyric poem, circa 735 AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Facing Death, that inescapable journey,
who can be wiser than he
who reflects, while breath yet remains,
on whether his life brought others happiness, or pains,
since his soul may yet win delight's or night's way
after his death-day.
Keywords/Tags: Medieval poems, Middle English poems, Old English poems, Anglo-Saxon poems, Anglo-Norman poems, author, authors, novel, novels, Avon, sword, swords, shields, spears, rose, roses, angel, angels, Angelus, romance, romantic, women, mother
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