“The Seafarer,” Translated from Anglo-Saxon by Annie Finch

THE SEAFARER
From the Anglo-Saxon, c. 550-950 AD

 

I keep the track                          of a song true of me:
I’ll tell of trials,                           struggling times,
hard days,                                    and how I endured.
I have borne                                such bitter cares,
held on ships                               whole houses of cares.
Awful sea-waves                         tossed where I kept
narrowed watches                       on the stern at night
and the ship beat cliffs.

Thronged in cold
were my feet,                                 bound in frost
with chains of cold,                      while hunger slit
my ocean-weary mood.               They do not know,
whom fair things                          befall on land,
how, care-worn wretch,              I stayed at sea
and wintered an exile’s                icy tracks,
shorn of kin,
hung with icicles.

Hail-showers flew.
There I heard only                        the whirring sea,
ice-cold wave,                                or else the call
of swans for a game,                     gannet’s laughter
and curlew’s song                          for human laughter,
mew’s singing                                 for mead to drink.
Storms beat the stone cliffs;        the tern answered,
icy-feathered.                                  No strong kinfolk
could help my heart,                      which hollowness held.
And they hardly know,                   who have life’s joy
by staying in towns,                        they of few hardships,
lustful and flushed,                         how often I, weary,
was forced to stay out                     on the salty sea.
Night’s shadow darkened,             snow from the north,
ground bound by frost;                  hail fell on earth,

coldest corn. . .
And now! there beats
a thought in my heart                   that I should try
the high waves,                              the salty sea;
my heart’s need                              always urges
my spirit out                                    away from here
seeking only                                    another place.
And there is no person                  so bold on the earth,
nor so good in gifts,                       nor so quick in youth,
nor so eager in acts,                       nor with friends so kind,
So as not to sorrow                         at sea always,
about what Heaven                         might finally bring.
Our minds are not                           on harping, nor on rings,
nor on joy in love,                            nor on bliss in this world,
nor on anything else—                    but on that tossing.
We are always longing,                  we who move over water. . .

Groves take blossom,                       towns are adorned,
fields brighten;                                  the world moves on;
then all urges                                     the pressing mood
to journey out,                                  in those who crave
to move far                                         on flood ways.
And the cuckoo urges,                     calling sad;
the guard of summer                       sings, boding
a horde of sorrow.                            They do not know,
the soft easy folks,                            what some undergo
who lay these wide                           exile’s tracks. . .
Now my heart turns                          high over hemming breast,
my mood moves                                out with the sea-flood,
It turns wide,                                      high over whale-paths—
sweeps of the earth—                         and swoops back to me
winged and eager —                            the hungry one yells,
whets for whale-ways                         my breast resistlessly,
the stretch of the seas. . .
and to me they are hotter,
the delights of Heaven,                      than this dead life
loaned us on land.                               I do not believe
that earth’s ways                                   stand eternal for Heaven.
One of three things                              brings each noble servant,
down to doubt                                      before the last day.
Sick or old                                             or hated by a sword,
doomed and wrecked,                        our lives are wrenched.
For each noble, therefore,                  the praise of the living,
of after-speakers—                               word-tracks—are best. . .
So here let us work,                              before we have to go,
good deeds on earth                            against demons’ evil,
brave deeds                                           to the harm of the devil,
so all our children                                 will extol us,
and our praise then                              live with the angels
for long ages,                                         eternal life’s glory,
delight of that host. . .

Days have departed,

carrying the pomp                              of earth’s countries;
now quiet are                                       the crowns and caesars
the gold-givers                                     who’ve gone before,
with mighty deeds                               made among themselves,
and lives known                                   for the noblest renown. . .

All that host has fallen.                       Delights have faded;
the worst are still here                        and they hold the world,
busily share in it.

Glory is bowed;
earth’s dignity                                          ages and ends,
as each of us does                                    throughout our world.
Age gains on us,                                       our faces pale,
grizzzle-headed we grieve;                     our friends have gone,
royal children                                            changed into earth.
Nor can the house of flesh,                     when life has failed us so,
taste the sweet                                           nor feel the sore
nor stir a hand                                           nor hold a thought.
And though on the graves                       of our great dead
we strew gold,                                            bury with death
various gifts,                                               they do not go along;
nor may the soul                                        that is full of sin
find strength in treasure                          from the terror of Heaven,
if we’ve hoarded before,                            while we dwelled here.
Great is the terror of the Measurer,        and the world moves aside;
The Measurer made                                   the massive ground,
the sweeps of earth,                                    the arching sky.
They are foolish who do not dread the Maker; death comes to them unforeseen.
They are blessed who live in gentle mood;   grace comes to them from heaven.
The Measurer marks in us that mood,     so we’ll believe in the Measuring strength.
We should steer strong moods                   and hold them steady,
wise in pledges,                                              pure in ways.
Each person should                                       in measure hold
love towards beloved                                     and malice towards foes,
even though we see,                                       singed with fire
and with anger,                                               the burning death
of a friend we love.                                        Fate is stronger,
the Measurer mightier,                                 than any of our ideas.
Let us think                                                     where our home is
and then consider                                           how we came here,
and then try always                                        so we can enter
on that eternal                                                 easiness
where life is held                                            in the love of the Maker,
bliss in the Heavens.                                     Let the Sacred One be thanked,
that we’ve been made worthy—                  by the world’s Elder,
always,                                                              for all time.                 So Must it Be.

First collected in Spells: New and Selected Poems (Wesleyan University Press, 2013)

Annie Finch Poems Spiral poets “The Seafarer,” Translated from Anglo-Saxon by Annie Finch