Riddle 45
In Anglo-Saxon:
Ic on wincle gefrægn weaxan nathwæt,
þindan ond þunian, þecene hebban;
on þæt banlease bryd grapode,
hygewlonc hondum, hrægle þeahte
þrindende þing þeodnes dohtor.
þindan ond þunian, þecene hebban;
on þæt banlease bryd grapode,
hygewlonc hondum, hrægle þeahte
þrindende þing þeodnes dohtor.
Modern
English translation by Richard Wilbur:
I
Saw in a Corner Something Swelling
I
saw in a corner something swelling,
Rearing,
rising and raising its cover.
A
lovely lady, a lord’s daughter,
Buried
her hands in that boneless body,
Then
covered with a cloth the puffed-up creature.
Source
of the text – The Word Exchange:
Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation, Edited by Greg Delanty and Michael
Matto. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2011, pp. 321-322.
Bourguignomicon: Bodily
knead. Can a tasteless pun rise to poetry after 1,000 years? Yes. Assonance,
timing, & compression work to flavor this little riddle.
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