8th Century Anglo Saxon Riddle

An enemy ended my life,
Deprived me of physical strength;
Then he dipped me in water
And drew me out again,
And put me in the sun
Where I soon shed all my hair.
After that
The knife’s sharp edge bit into me
And all my blemishes were scraped away.
Fingers folded me
And the birds’ feathers
Often moved over my brown surface,
Sprinkling meaningful marks;
It swallowed more wood-dye
(part of the stream)
And again travelled over me
Adorned me with gold;
Thus I am enriched
By the wondrous works of Smiths,
Wound about with shining metal.
Now my clasp and red dye
And these glorious adornments
Bring fame far and wide
To the Protector of Men
And not to the pains of hell.
If only the sons of men
Would make use of me
They would be safer
And the more victorious
Their hearts would be bolder,
Their minds more at ease
Their thoughts wiser,
And they would have more friends
Companions and kinsmen
(Courageous, honourable, trusty and kind)
Who would gladly
Increase their honour and prosperity,
And heap benefits upon them,
Ever hold them most dear.
Ask what I am called,
Of such service to men.
My name is famous,
Of service to men
And sacred in itself.

I am a book.

Dusty book


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Paul Dobraszczyk

rag-picking history

Tdoo in Lesotho

My favourites and it's an eclectic selection


My favourites and it's an eclectic selection


Musings from a mind that just can't be made up

Faces in Places

My favourites and it's an eclectic selection

%d bloggers like this: