Shiney.

Monday, October 30, 2006

The Wanderer

The lonely wanderer prays often for compassion
And for mercy from Lord God; but for a long time
Destiny decrees that with a heavy heart he must dip
His oars into icy waters, working his passage over the sea.
He must follow the paths of exile. Fate is inexorable!

The wanderer's mind moved upon adversity
And savage slaughter and the ruins of kinsmen. He said,
'Time and again at the day's dawning
I must mourn all my afflictions alone.
There is no one still living to whom I dare open
The doors of my heart. I have no doubt
That it is a noble habit for a man
To shroud all his heart's feelings with silence,
Whatever his impulse, his inclinations.

The weary in spirit cannot withstand fate;
Nothing comes of rankling resentment.
For this reason any man ambitious for renown
Confines his unhappiness to his own heart.
So ever since the day I covered my gold-friend
With dark clods of earth, I have had to keep
My thoughts to myself, and this despite my grief,
Cut off from free kinsmen, so far away
From my own dear country; for I left that land,
Ploughed the icy waves with winter in my heart;
Depressed and despondent I journeyed far and wide
Hunting for the hall of a generous gold-giver...
For a man who would welcome me into his mead-hall,
Give me good cheer, (for I boasted no friends)
Entertain me with delights. He who has experience it
Knows what a cruel companion sorrow can be
To any man who has few loyal friends.
For him are the ways of exile, in no wise twisted gold!
For him is a frozen body, in no wise the fruits of the earth!
He remembers hall-tretainers and how in his youth
He had taken treasure from the hands of his gold-friend
After the feast. Those joys have all vanished.

A man who lacks advice for a long while
From his lord and friend lives thus in his loneliness:
In restless sleep he dreams that he clasps
And kisses his lord, and lays hands and head
Upon his lord's knee just as he had done
When he approached the gift-throne previously.
Then the lonely wanderer wakes again
And sees the dark waves surging around him,
The sea-birds bathing and spreading their feathers,
Snow flakes falling mingled with hail.

Then his wounds lie more heavy in his heart,
Aching for his lord. His sorrows are renewed;
The memory of kinsmen sweeps through his mind;
He welcomes them with songs, eagarly scans
His comrade warriors. Then they melt away again.
Their sprits do not bring many old songs
To his lips. Sorrow and care constantly
Attend the man who must send time and again
His weary heart over the frozen waves.

And thus I cannot understand why in the world
My mind is not tormented
When I brood on the fate of many brave warriors,
How they have suddenly had to leave the mead-hall,
The bold friends and followers. So it is this world
Day by day dwindles, and passes away;
For a man will not be wise until he has suffered
His share of winters in the world. A wise man must be patient,
Neither passionate nor hasty of speech,
Neither rash nor irresolute in battle;
He should not be timid, despairing, grasping,
And never eager to boast before he can implement it.
When it is his turn to boast a man must bide his time
Until he has not doubt in his brave heart
That he has resolved upon the right action.
A wise man must fathom how frightening it will be
When all the riches of the world stand waste,
As now in diverse places in this middle-earth
Old walls stand, tugged at by the winds
And hung with hoar-frost, buildings in decay.
The wine-halls crumble, heartbroken lords
Lie dead, all the proud followers
Have fallen ny the wall. Battle laid claim to some,
Leading them on long journeys; the raven carried one
High over the waters, and one the grey wolf
Devoured; a warrior with downcast face
Hid yet another in an earth-cave.
Thus the Creator laid this world waste
Until the ancient works of the giants were deserted,
Hushed without the hubbub of milling inhabitants.

Then he who contemplates these noble ruins,
And who deeply ponders this dark life,
Wise in his mind, will often remember
The countelss slaughters of the past and speak these words:
Where has the horse gone? Where the man? Where the giver of gold?
Where is the feasting-place? And where the pleasures of the hall?
I mourn the gleaming cup, the warrior in his corselet,
THe glory of the prince. How time has passed away,
Darkened under the shadow of night even as if it had never been.
Where the beloved warriors were, the now stands a wall
Of miraculous height, carved with serpent forms.
The savage ash-spears, avid for slaughter,
Have claimed all the warriors - in exorable fate!
Storms crash against these rocky slopes;
Falling sleet and snow fetter the world;
Winter howls, then darkness draws on,
The night-shadow casts gloom and brings
Fierce hailstorms from the north to frighten men.
Nothing is ever easy in the kingdom of earth,
The world beneath the heavens is in the hands of fate.
Worldly possessions are ephemeral, friends pass away,
Here man is transient and kinsman transient,
The whole world becomes a wilderness.'

So spoke the wise man in his heart as he sat apart in secret thought.
He who is wise adheres to his beliefs; a brave man
Will not reveal the torments in his heart
Before he knows their remedy. It is best for a man to seek
Comfort and compassion from the Father in Heaven where we will all find security.

planted @ 3:16 AM