Monday, June 27, 2011

Where have I been

I know, I know......Why haven't I turned out some NEW poetry? What's with these "re-runs"? I have no excuses, nor explanations, except that my Muse has been on an extended vacation --- maybe in Guantanamo for all I know.  This may sound lame,but nothing has been strong enough inspiration to overcome various "real-life" that keeps me from writing.

Anyway, you didn't check in here for my kvetching.

So, two things.  Today, I begin writing the Konungs saga vestermarki ("The Saga of the King from the Western Borders").  It is my attempt to present poetry in the form where scholars most often find it - as part of a saga (long prose story).  I intend to write a few chapters from what would be a very long saga of the Four Shires on the Western March.  Each chapter will feature poetry, part of a flokkr of verses concerning the Shires and the Unification of what would later be known as Æthelmearc.


Second, two new verses (new to you, anyway!)  No explanations, just verses and translations.  Enjoy!  and please COMMENT!

Verse One:


Friðrek ræsir fremð inn
Frisi gráskegg vissin
haf-skip siglir  hlyðir 
humra til Austur rumlend.
Metendr leiða morgum
morðáls til villi-borgar;
öskranfossdœl ásetta
ískaldr reista dísasalr.

Grizzled grey-beard Frederick the Frisian advancer of honor, you sailed the warship from the lobster-slopes [OCEANS] to the Eastern lands.  You lead many testers of the battle eel [SWORD > WARRIORS] to the wild hills; you settled in the ice-cold valley of the roaring waterfall; you built a temple.

Verse Two:

from the Hœna flokkr eggja-gæzlumaðr


Hklaka mattigs óðar hylð þu
hauka tal þelli-hringa flokkr

Heppin bóru bana hœnaar
hviti-kjöt eggjaveðr mittings

Prose order:

Hlyð þu mattigs óðar hklaka-hauka; tal þelli-hringa flokkr. Heppen hviti-kjöt bóru mittings eggjaveðr bana-hœnar.

Translation:

Hear my mighty poem, Klucking-hawk; I tell of the fir-ring of the flock (>woman> chicken). Well-starred (>lucky, fortunate) white-meat (>chicken) brought a mighty edge-windstorm (>battle) to the bane of hens (fox).







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