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Wreccan wifes ged [The Wife's Lament; The Wife's Complaint]

Anonymous
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OriginalTraduzione inglese moderna di Richard Hamer (2002)
WRECCAN WIFES GED [THE WIFE'S LAMENT; THE WIFE'S COMPLAINT]

Ic þis giedd wrece                     bi me ful geomorre
minre sylfre sið;                    ic þæt secgan mæg
hwæt ic yrmþa gebad                     siþþan ic up weox
niwes oþþe ealdes,                     noma þonne nu
a ic wite wonn                     minra wræcsiþa!
Ærest min hlaford gewat                     heonan of leodum
ofer yþa gelac.                     Hæfde ic uhtceare
hwær min leodfruma                     londes wære.
Ða icme feran gewat                     folgað secan,
wineleas wræcca,                     for minre weaþearfe.
Ongunnon þæt þæs monnes                     magas hycgan
þurh dyrne geþoht                     þæt hy todælden unc
þæt wit gewidost                     in woruldrice
lifdon laðlicost,                     and mec longade.
Het mec hlaford min                     her heard niman.
Ahte ic leofra lyt                     on þissum londstede,
holdra freonda;                     for þon is min hyge geomor,
ða icme ful gemæcne                     monnan funde
heardsæligne,                    hygegeomorne,
mod miþendne,                     morþor hycgende
bliþe gebæro.                     Ful oft wit beotedan
þæt unc ne gedælde                    nemne deað ana.
owiht elles.                     Eft is þæt onhworfen
is nu […....] swa hit no wære.
freondscipe uncer!                     Sceal ic feor ge neah
mines fela leofan                     fæhðu dreogan.
Heht mec mon wunian                     on wuda bearwe
under actreo                     in þam eorðscræfe.
Eald is þes eorðsele                     eal ic eom oflongad;
sindon dena dimme                     duna uphea,
bitre burgtunas,                    brerum beweaxne,
wic wynna leas.                     Ful oft mec her wraþe begeat
fromsiþ frean.                     Frynd sind on eorþan
leofe lifgende,                     leger weardiað,
þonne ic on uhtan                     ana gonge
under actreo                     geond þas eorðscrafu!
Þær ic sittan mot                     sumorlangne dæg,
þær ic wepan mæg                     mine wræcsiþas,
earfoþa fela.                     For þon ic æfre ne mæg
þære modceare                     minre gerestan.
Ne ealles þæs longaþes                     þe mec on þissum life begeat.
A scyle geong mon                     wesan geomormod,
heard heortan geþoht,                     swylce habban sceal
bliþe gebæro,                     eac þon breostceare,
sinsorgna gedreag -                    sy æt him sylfum gelong
eal his worulde wyn                     sy ful wide fah
feorres folclondes                     þæt min freond siteð
under stanhliþe.                     storme behrimed
wine werigmod,                    wætre beflowen
on dreorsele.                     Dreogeð se min wine
micle modceare;                     he gemon to oft
wynlicran wic.                    Wa bið þam þe sceal
of langoþe                     leofes abidan!

THE WIFE'S LAMENT

I sing this song about myself, full sad,
My own distress, and tell what hardships I
Have had to suffer since I first grew up,
Present and past, but never more than now;
I ever suffered grief through banishment.
For since my lord departed from this people
Over the sea, each dawn have I had care
Wondering where my lord may be on land.
When I set off to join and serve my lord,
A friendless exile in my sorry plight,
My husband's kinsmen plotted secretly
How they might separate us from each other
That we might live in wretchedness apart
Most widely in the world: and my heart longed.
In the first place my lord had ordered me
To take up my abode here, though I had
Among these people few dear loyal friends;
Therefore my heart is sad. Then had I found
A fitting man, but one ill-starred, distressed,
Whose hiding heart was contemplating crime,
Though cheerful his demeanour. We had vowed
Full many a time that nought should come between us
But death alone, and nothing else at all.
All that has changed, and it is now as though
Our marriage and our love had never been,
And far or near forever I must suffer
The feud of my beloved husband dear.
So in this forest grove they made me dwell,

Under the oak-tree, in this earthy barrow.
Old is this earth-cave, all I do is yearn.
The dales are dark with high hills up above,
Sharp hedge surrounds it, overgrown with briars,
And joyless is the place. Full often here
The absence of my lord comes sharply to me.
Dear lovers in this world lie in their beds,
While I alone at crack of dawn must walk
Under the oak-tree round this earthy cave,
Where I must stay the length of summer days,
Where I may weep my banishment and all
My many hardships, for I never can
Contrive to set at rest my careworn heart,
Nor all the longing that this life has brought me.
A young man always must be serious,
And tough his character; likewise he should
Seem cheerful, even though his heart is sad
With multitude of cares. All earthly joy
Must come from his own self. Since my dear lord
Is outcast, far off in a distant land,
Frozen by storms beneath a stormy cliff
And dwelling in some desolate abode
Beside the sea, my weary-hearted lord
Must suffer pitiless anxiety.
And all too often he will call to mind
A happier dwelling. Grief must always be
For him who yearning longs for his beloved.


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