The Maiden Lay in the Wilds: Translation

These are modern English translations of ancient Middle English poems. The Maiden Lay in the Wilds circa the 14th century loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch The maiden in the moor lay, in the moor lay; seven nights full, seven nights full, the maiden in the moor lay, in the moor lay, seven nights full and a day. Sweet was her meat. But what was her meat? The primrose and the— The primrose and the— Sweet was her meat. But what was her meat? The primrose and the violet. Pure was her drink. But what was her drink? The cold waters of the— The cold waters of the— Pure was her drink. But what was her drink? The cold waters of the well-spring. Bright was her bower. But what was her bower? The red rose and the— The red rose and the— Bright was her bower. But what was her bower? The red rose and the lily flower. See, Here, My Heart circa the 15th century loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch O, mankind, please keep in mind where Passions start: there you will find me wholly kind— see, here, my heart. The World an Illusion circa 14th century loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch This is the sum of wisdom bright: however things may appear, life vanishes like birds in flight; now it’s here, now there. Nor are we mighty in our “might”— now on the bench, now on the bier. However vigilant or wise, in health it’s death we fear. However proud and without peer, no man’s immune to tragedy. And though we think all’s solid here, this world is but a fantasy. The sun’s course we may claim to know: arises east, sets in the west; we know which way earth’s rivers flow, into the seas that fill and crest. The winds rush here and there, also, it rains and snows without arrest. Will it all end? God only knows, with the wisdom of the Blessed, while we on earth remain hard-pressed, all bedraggled, or too dry, until we vanish, just a guest: this world is but a fantasy. Trust Only Yourself circa the 15th century loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Alas! Deceit lies in trust now, dubious as Fortune, spinning like a ball, as brittle when tested as a rotten bough. He who trusts in trust is ripe for a fall! Such guile in trust cannot be trusted, or a man will soon find himself busted. Therefore, “Be wary of trust!” is my advice. Trust only yourself and learn to be wise. Keywords/Tags: maiden, moor, nights, meat, primrose, violet, drink, cold water, bower, rose, lily, world, illusion, wisdom, life, birds, death