by Gideon Burton
after the Old English Elegy
Who lives to know my fate, the frost-cold sea?
But I within my breast chest seal this sorrow.
The ice-locked waves divide my friends from me,
no treasure-giver, mead hall, joys unborrowed.
So winter-bound, unlike those feasting days,
near counsel and the gift-throne; friendless now.
No hall companions thaw the binding waves,
and wisdom waits through winters' foaming plows.
Time-blasted, buildings tumble, soldiers pass
Creator wrecks the walls of each enclosure.
So many ancient slaughters, lives of glass.
Where are the brave ones, left to time's exposure?
Slipped into nightfall, joys in fleet descent
The rider, prince, the giver, shadow-sent.
Photo: flickr - Nick in exsilio
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