The Tacit

THE TACIT

Then she walked naked across the room,
the apartment on the Med, it was late afternoon.

Did it for him: walk slow, stand quiet.
But unsure of herself, in his eyes, that light,

the later recall. A part of her hated this, 
part thought So is it love, then? This

ambivalence? Part fought for innocence, part 
for knowledge. That bouquet they bought?

She was a stray bloom in the laid-out display; 
a green stem in the water, the dark.

And he, well he was caught up in the high 
of good times, the botched-up DIY

of street name, reputation. But how do you share 
this Matisse moment – so intense, rare,

her nude light, hues, changing volumes? 
It bewildered him: he wanted the noise of blooms,

and the silent flower. But could not 
bridge the distances to where she stood,

nor achieve the distinction of that unique state,
beyond the mosquitoes, the chipped plate.

LE TACITE

Puis elle a marché nue à travers la pièce,
l’appartement sur la Méditerranée, c’était en fin d’après-midi.

Je l’ai fait pour lui : marchez lentement, restez silencieux.
Mais peu sûre d’elle, à ses yeux, cette lumière,

le rappel ultérieur. Une partie d’elle détestait ça,
une partie de la pensée Alors est-ce de l’amour, alors ? Cette

ambivalence? Une partie s’est battue pour l’innocence, une partie
pour la connaissance. Ce bouquet qu’ils ont acheté ?

Elle était une fleur perdue dans l’étalage aménagé;
une tige verte dans l’eau, l’obscurité.

Et lui, eh bien, il a été pris dans le haut
de bons moments, le bricolage bâclé

du nom de la rue, de la réputation. Mais comment partagez-vous
ce moment Matisse – si intense, rare,

sa lumière nue, ses teintes, ses volumes changeants ?
Cela le déconcertait : il voulait le bruit des fleurs,

et la fleur silencieuse. Mais ne put pas
combler les distances à l’endroit où elle se tenait,

ni atteindre la distinction de cet état unique,
au-delà des moustiques, l’assiette ébréchée.

IL TACITO

Poi camminò nuda attraverso la stanza,
l’appartamento sul Med, era tardo pomeriggio.

L’ha fatto per lui: cammina piano, stai zitto.
Ma insicura di sé, nei suoi occhi, quella luce,

il successivo richiamo. Una parte di lei lo odiava,
pensiero in parte Quindi è amore, allora? Questo

ambivalenza? In parte ha combattuto per l’innocenza, in parte
per conoscenza. Quel bouquet che hanno comprato?

Era un fiore perduto nell’esposizione allestita;
uno stelo verde nell’acqua, il buio.

E lui, beh, è stato preso in alto
dei bei tempi, il fai-da-te pasticciato

del nome della via, della reputazione. Ma come condividi
questo momento Matisse – così intenso, raro,

la sua luce nuda, i suoi colori, i suoi volumi cangianti?
Lo sconcertò: voleva il rumore dei fiori,

e il fiore silenzioso. Ma non potevo
colmare le distanze fino a dove si trovava,

né raggiungere la distinzione di quello stato unico,
oltre le zanzare, il piatto scheggiato.

EL TÁCITO

Luego caminó desnuda por la habitación,
el apartamento en el Mediterráneo, era tarde.

Lo hizo por él: camine despacio, quédese quieto.
Pero insegura de sí misma, en sus ojos, esa luz,

el recuerdo posterior. Una parte de ella odiaba esto,
parte del pensamiento Entonces, ¿es amor? Este

¿ambivalencia? Parte luchó por la inocencia, parte
para el conocimiento. ¿Ese ramo que compraron?

Ella era una flor perdida en la exhibición dispuesta;
un tallo verde en el agua, la oscuridad.

Y él, bueno, estaba atrapado
de alto veces, el intento de bricolaje

del nombre de la calle, la reputación. pero como compartes
este momento de Matisse, tan intenso, raro,

su luz desnuda, tonalidades, volúmenes cambiantes?
Lo desconcertó: quería el ruido de las flores,

y la flor silenciosa. pero no pude
acortar las distancias a donde ella estaba,

ni lograr la distinción de ese estado único,
más allá de los mosquitos, el plato astillado.

Rain

RAIN

A drop of rain falling –
it didn’t know where its parents were,
It didn’t know where its companions were
all it knew was falling.

The wind took it up, turning it over
curious
fingering the bead of it until it shone.
It lay dead-weight in the palm, submissive
to all the wind’s intimacies.

But the wind had other business 
caught up for a moment with all this
glittering, and wondering
What was all this
stripping its valuables
leaving the wind empty 
and cold in the sky?

Pearls, diamonds, gem-stones – 
worthless; all it needed 
was sustenance.
Wind threw rain over.

And being taken up, cast down
rain fell heavier than ever
a pebble for its heart

To destroy itself on a leaf.
Caught hurting on the tree’s hand
spilling all that encrusted it;
to enter the green caverns
a formless thing.

PLUIE

Une goutte de pluie qui tombe –
il ne savait pas où étaient ses parents,
Il ne savait pas où étaient ses compagnons
tout ce qu’il savait était de tomber.

Le vent l’a emporté, le retournant
curieux
en caressant le grain jusqu’à ce qu’il brille.
Il gisait comme un poids mort dans la paume, soumis
à toutes les intimités du vent.

Mais le vent avait d’autres affaires
rattrapé un instant avec tout ça
scintillant et se demandant
C’était quoi tout ça
dépouiller ses objets de valeur
laissant le vent vide
et froid dans le ciel?

Perles, diamants, pierres précieuses –
sans valeur; tout ce qu’il fallait
était la subsistance.
Le vent a chassé la pluie.

Et d’être prendre en haut, 
jeté vers le bas
la pluie est tombée plus fort que jamais
un caillou pour son Coeur

Se détruire sur une feuille.
Pris blessé sur la main de l’arbre
renverser tout ce qui l’incrustait ;
entrer dans les cavernes vertes
une chose sans forme.

PIOVERE

Una goccia di pioggia che cade –
non sapeva dove fossero i suoi genitori,
Non sapeva dove fossero i suoi compagni
tutto cio che sapeva stava cadendo.

Il vento lo prese, capovolgendolo
curioso
toccando il vetrofinché non brillava.
Giaceva come un peso morto nel palmo, sottomesso
a tutte le intimità del vento.

Ma il vento aveva altri affari
preso per un momento con tutto questo
scintillante e meravigliato
Cos’era tutto questo
spogliando i suoi oggetti di valore
lasciando vuoto il vento
e freddo nel cielo?

Perle, diamanti, pietre preziose –
senza valore; tutto ciò di cui aveva bisogno
era sostentamento.
Il vento ha rovesciato la pioggia.

Ed essendo preso, gettato giù
la pioggia cadeva più pesante che mai
un sassolino per il suo cuore
Autoistruggersi su una foglia.

Preso ferito sulla mano dell’albero
rovesciando tutto ciò che lo incrostava;
per entrare nelle caverne verdi
una cosa senza forma.

LLUVIA

Una gota de lluvia cayendo –
no sabía dónde estaban sus padres,
No sabía dónde estaban sus compañeros.
todo lo que sabía era caer.

El viento se lo llevó, volteándolo
curioso
digitación la cuenta de vidrio
hasta que brilló.
Yacía como un peso muerto en la palma de la mano, sumisa
a todas las intimidades del viento.
Pero el viento tenía otros asuntos
atrapado por un momento con todo esto
brillando y preguntándose
que fue todo esto

despojando de sus objetos de valor
dejando el viento vacío
y frío en el cielo?

Perlas, diamantes, piedras preciosas –
sin valor; todo lo que necesitaba
era sustento.

El viento descartado lluvia .
y siendo arrebatado, echado abajo
la lluvia cayó más fuerte que nunca
un guijarro para su corazón
Destruirse en una hoja.

Atrapado lastimado en la mano del árbol
derramando todo lo que tenía incrustado;
para entrar en las cavernas verdes
una cosa sin forma.

In Time of Illness

When I first became ill, Berg’s String Quartet was a revelation to me.
The concentrated form and narrow range of instruments was all I could handle.
But I still cherish this piece of music, maybe for that reason, and I hope for the
music itself as well.

Quand je suis tombé malade pour la première fois, le Quatuor à cordes de Berg a été une révélation pour moi.
La forme concentrée et la gamme étroite d’instruments étaient tout ce que je pouvais gérer.
Mais je chéris toujours ce morceau de musique, peut-être pour cette raison, et j’espère aussi pour la musique elle-même.

Quando mi sono ammalato per la prima volta, il quartetto d’archi di Berg è stato per me una rivelazione.
La forma concentrata e la gamma ristretta di strumenti erano tutto ciò che riuscivo a gestire.
Ma apprezzo ancora questo pezzo di musica, forse per quella resason, e spero anche per la musica stessa.

Cuando me enfermé por primera vez, el Cuarteto de Cuerdas de Berg fue una revelación para mí.
La forma concentrada y la estrecha gama de instrumentos fue todo lo que pude manejar.
Pero todavía atesoro esta pieza musical, tal vez por esa razón, y también espero por la música misma.

Experiments in translation 2

Schrödinger’s Cat

The black cat of space
closes its eyes to sleep
and the last stars go out

The cat wakes, stretches
and its with nails prick holes in space
new stars shine through 

le chat noir de l’espace
ferme les yeux pour dormir
et les dernières étoiles s’éteignent

Le chat se réveille, s’étire
et ses clous piquent des trous dans l’espace
de nouvelles étoiles brillent à travers

lo spazio è un gatto nero
chiude gli occhi per dormire
e le ultime stelle muoiono

il gatto si sveglia, si allunga,
le sue unghie perforano buchi nell’oscurità
le nuove stelle sono nate

el espacio es un gato negro
cierra los ojos para dormir
y las ultimas estrellas mueren

el gato se despierta, se estira,
sus uñas perforan agujeros en el negro
nacen las nuevas estrellas

Experiments in translation 1

DARK ENERGY

As black-on-black of stellar crows
chase by treetop high earth,
they leave it reeling.

Their monstrous battles
are sunbursts, supernova.

When they mate our times tense,
pressured;
the incubation of the egg our doldrums.

The hatching egg
moves our achievements onwards.

Feeding the newborn,
are our periods of acquisition;

when the fledgling flies we feel its wrench, 
its absence

                        like the loss of a god.

There is no knowing
they will ever fly our way again.

ÉNERGIE NOIRE

Comme noir sur noir des corbeaux stellaires
chasser par la cime des arbres haute terre,
ils le laissent chancelant.

Leurs batailles monstrueuses
sont des coups de soleil, supernova.

Quand ils s’accouplent nos temps tendus,
sous pression;

l’incubation de l’oeuf notre marasme.
L’éclosion
fait avancer les réalisations.

Nourrir le nouveau-né,
sont nos périodes d’acquisition ;

quand l’oisillon vole on sent sa déchirure,
son absence

                         comme la perte d’un dieu.
Il n’y a pas de savoir
ils voleront à nouveau vers nous.

ENERGIA OSCURA

Come nero su nero di corvi stellari
inseguire sulla terra alta delle cime degli alberi,
lo lasciano vacillare.

Le loro battaglie mostruose
sono raggi solari, supernova.

Quando si accoppiano i nostri tempi tesi,
sotto pressione;

l’incubazione dell’uovo la nostra stasi.
La schiusa
fa avanzare le conquiste.

Nutrire il neonato,
sono i nostri periodi di acquisizione;

quando la neonata vola sentiamo la sua stretta,
la sua assenza

                         come la perdita di un dio.

Non c’è sapere
non voleranno mai più per la nostra strada.

ENERGÍA OSCURA

Como negro sobre negro de cuervos estelares
persecución por la copa de los árboles de la tierra alta,
lo dejan tambaleándose.

Sus monstruosas batallas
son rayos de sol, supernova.

Cuando se aparean nuestros tiempos tensos,
presionado;

la incubación del huevo nuestro estancamiento.
la eclosión
mueve los logros de nuestro tiempo hacia adelante.

Alimentando al recién nacido,
son nuestros períodos de adquisición;

cuando el pichón vuela sentimos su tirón,
su ausencia

                         como la pérdida de un dios.

no hay saber
volverán a volar en nuestro camino.

Alfred Giraud’s 'Pierrot Lunaire'

Alfred Giraud’s ‘Pierrot Lunaire’, translated by Gregory C Richter. Published by Truman State University Press, Kirksville, Missouri, 2001.
ISBN  1931112029

This is the first full translation into English of this seminal book of poems, originally published in France, in 1884.
The translation, ‘renderings’ he terms them, is by Gregory C Richter, professor of linguistics at Truman state University, Missouri.
He presents here a bilingual, at times trilingual publication of the complete book, Pierrot Lunaire.
He gives the original French text with English ‘render’ per poem per page. As a selection of the poems were early-on translated into German, he also publishes the German version of the poems selected. The German translator Otto Erich Hartleben, he points out, did not stick to straight translation but gave ‘versions’ that at times vary from the the originals.
For those readers with German, this is a special for you. There are translations of several poems by other German writers here also.

1

Alfred Giraud was a Belgian writer. Alfred Giraud was the pen name of Alfred Kayenbergh, from Louvain, Belgium. He was born in 1860, and died in 1929.

Originally a law student, literature was his obsession, and he happily embraced the role of Decadent writer, after Baudelaire, and owned influences by contemporary Symbolists such as Paul Verlaine, Stephen Mallarme, Leconte de Lisle.

Pierrot Lunaire was, surprisingly, his first major publication, in 1884, when he was aged 24. It was a success, and continued to attract attention and influence the European art scene for decades.
He continued to write poetry, plays and critical articles throughout his life.

The German writer Otto Erich Hartleben translated a selection from the work not long after publication, in 1893. He translated the whole book eventually, but it was the selection that became the main source for other artists.

And, yes, I am thinking of Arnold Schoenberg, here. He used Otto Hartleben’s translation of twenty one selected verses for his magnificent sprechstimme Pierrot Lunaire Op21, in 1912. 

Alfred Giraud’s Pierrot Lunaire is based on characters from the traditional Italian commedia dell’arte. As well as Pierrot himself, we find here also arch-rival Harlequin. Columbine, though, plays a minor role. We find another, unfamiliar character, the elderly Cassander.

The commedia was experiencing one of its periodic returns to popularity: witness Pablo Picasso’s use of the troupe in his Rose period (1904-6) paintings. Of course, connected with this is Rainer Maria Rilke basing one of his Duino Elegies on the painting, circa 1912-22.
Paul Verlaine’s Claire de Lune, after Theodore de Banville (1842), captures some of the essence of the period, and, of course, Claude Debussy made the essence more concrete, so to speak with his Pierrot song (1881) and the Suite bergamesque.

The commedia was a key cultural element throughout the period.

2
The poems were written in a very strict rhyme pattern, adapting the French syllabic basis of a strict syllabic line of seven syllables.
The rhyme scheme with one or two variations only, is as follows:

A
B
b
a

a
b
A
B

a
b
b
a
A

A thirteen-line poem.

Within this scheme, though, there are other disciplines: the first line is repeated in line seven, and line thirteen. Lines one and two of the poem are repeated in lines seven and eight.

The structure is like that of a Rondel. In poem 50, Bohemian Crystal, the poem’s narrator speaks of rhyming in roundelays/rondels.

Le serenade de Pierrot (poem 6)

D’un grotesque archet dissonant
Agacant sa viole plate,
A la heron, sur une patte.
Il pince un air inconvenant.

Soudain Cassandre, intervevant,
Blame ce nocturne acrobate,
D’un grotesque archet dissonant
Agacant sa viole platte.

Pierrot la rejette, et presenant
D’un poigne tres delicate
Le vieux par sa roide cravate.
Zebre le bedon du genant
D’un grotesque archet dissonant.

(I give the repeating lines in bold.)

Gregory C Richter’s ‘rendering’ is as follows:

Tormenting his viol
With grotesque, discordant bow –
Like a heron standing on one claw –
He pinches out a painful air.

Suddenly Cassander intervenes
And scolds the nightly acrobat
Tormenting his viol
With grotesque, discordant bow.

Throwing aside the viol,
With ultradelicate grace
Pierrot now takes him by his tie
And zebra-stripes the oldster’s paunch
With grotesque, discordant bow.

Rhyme scheme nor syllabic count could be saved, but sense and intent have been. Whatever you think of these translations/renderings they do convey theme and line-sense throughout.
It is also interesting to see this Pierrot not averse to taking the upper hand.

The Introduction notes how the book divides into three parts. The opening poems and last poems are more peaceful in mood, whilst the central section, poems 17-30, veer into the grotesque. Think of Belioz’s Symphonie Fantastique. Here we find poems on Absinthe, Suicide, Decapitation.
Poem 23, Begging for Heads has some wonderfully grotesque imagery:

A bucket, red and full of sawdust
Lies within your clenched embrace,
O Guillotine, mad escapee,
Wandering before the prison!

Could we say of the form, that the first stanza establishes the scene, the second one examines the scene, and the third one explores it further?

3

I was so looking forward to this book; it has been prohibitively expensive.

You could say the tone, rather than the characters, capture that period when Romanticism blended into Aestheticism. There is also the influence of more classical attitudes here, the Parnassian writing the younger Alfred Girauld admired.
Pierrot, himself, although quite a ‘dandy’, does not have the effete quality that later works delimit for him.

How would you characterise the work?
It is not a psychodrama, except in the most basic sense: the author plays lightly with personal themes, but more robustly with cultural elements and atmospheres of his place and period.
There is no main narrative, or through-line as such; each poem encapsulates the ‘mood’ of the theme. Some veer off into different directions: there are several boat-based poems.
The Ménage à trois of the commedia story: Pierrot-Columbine-Harlequin, is alluded to (poem 11) but not central to the book.
In its way it is a very Roman Catholic book: Pierrot’s suicide, whether real or emotional appears in poem 18, but this is followed by the increasingly diabolical poems of the central section.
Poem 31 returns to images – decor – of the opening poems, and the chance to begin anew, but not necessarily changed by the experience: we still have Cruel Pierrot, poem 45, a mocking moon, poem 43. In poem 50, Bohemian Crystal the author has done with the character Pierrot, and steps forward; or another narrator does.
The image of the Bohemian crystal – symbol, he calls it – is an interesting re-take on the crystal flagons of poem 3’s Dandy from Bergamo.

There is a suggested circling of structure, but it is unproductive to look for paralleling as in chiasmic structures. Although poem 6, Pierrot’s Serenade (above) where Pierrot thrashes Cassender, does hold a close position in the structure of the book to poem 45, Cruel Pierrot, where once again Cassender is pummelled.

Tacitly acknowledging the classic commedia storylines, Alfred Giraud here produces an original work.

I place the book with Federico Garcia Lorca’s Gypsy Ballads, in that they both create their own landscapes out of the known world, and fictionally explore characters and events occurring there. These landscapes are part based on known, ‘real’ times and places, just as, say, Sir Walter Scott’s The Bride of Lammermoor, was a created place based on a number of Border Ballads, and his real environment, including his time’s current themes and attitudes.

And yet, I find myself disappointed by the book.
I expected, that is, wanted, something harder, something more realised and concrete, like in the Gypsy Ballads, the moon glinting like tin, perhaps.
Pierrot’s moon is of another kind: Moonstruck is translated

The wine we drink with our eyes
Flows from the Moon in green waves…

an absinthe moon perhaps – but there is not the passion of Green, how I want you green of Federico Garcia Lorca’s Somnabular Ballad.

Pierrot The Dandy, poem 3, begins:
A fantastic Moonbeam
Lights up the crystal flagons
Of the sandalwood washstand
Of the pale dandy from Bergamo.

And I have to admit, I love the detail.

But perhaps it is the cumulative effect of the verse form, that it is limiting the emotional and imaginative ranges possible.

There are very welcome footnotes throughout – many references are no longer current. The opening poems refer to Breughel, but it is Jan, Breughel The Younger, known as Paradise Breughel, more famed for his flower and landscape pantings.

Alfred Giraud’s images are literary, whereas Federico Garcia Lorca’s are more tactile, drawn from oral sources and then transposed through surrealist techniques married to his own idiosyncratic responses.

There are many gems to be found in Pierrot Lunaire, make no mistake. It is a book to keep going back to again and again.

4

And now here’s my challenge to readers: have a go at the verse form, see how it works for you.

Here’s mine, one for the present times:

A Man From Wuhan

A man stands at his window
I wave, he does not wave back.
We chatted a day back;
He stands at his window.

The street is quiet down below
only TVs answer back.
The man is at his window,
I wave. He does not wave back.

That lull after they all go;
They cleared our block an hour back.
My wife, he‘d said… bad attack.
None come, one by one they go.
A man stands at his window.

There is a lot to be learned through imitation: compare the effects of my use of static verb-structures and tenses, and Alfred Giraud’s active, moving ones, for example.
Try it.

Keep well, my friends, and stay safe.

THE DREAM OF THE ROOD 2

This is a line-for-line literal translation of the whole Vercelli ms of the poem. I miss all the metrical tautness and alliteration. I hope, however, that it does give some impression of the period tone of the poem.

The Ruthwell Cross excerpts are lines 39-42, 44-45, 48-49, 56-59, 62-64

THE DREAM OF THE ROOD

     Hwaet! Ic swefna cyst   seegan wylle

h(w)aet me gematte   to midre nihte

   sythan reordberend   reste wunedon.

Listen, I had the best of dreams – I will tell you

well I dreamed this middle night,

when word-bearers had won their rest.

I thought that I saw a wonderful tree

in the air raised, light wrapped around it

bright shining. All of that symbol was

sprinkled with gold; gems stood

fair on the earth surface, and five there were

on the tree’s axlespan. Gazed on there by angels, the Lords’ all,

fair in creation. Nor was this a felon’s gallows

but beheld there by the holy spirit

in men upon the earth and all this great creation.

Marvellous was that sign of victory, and I a guilty sinner

stained with sins. I saw glory’s tree

dressed in honour, beautifully shining

covered with gold, gems it had on it

covered magnificently, this forest tree.

However by virtue of that gold I perceived the mighty

wretched former struggle earlier, as it began

to bleed on the right-hand side. I was all with sorrow distressed

a friend I was for that beautiful vision. I saw that dressed symbol

change covering and colour; at times it was with wetness bestreamed

soaked with blood flow, at times with treasure adorned.

However I long lay there, a long while

beholding the sorrowing of the Saviour’s tree,

until, I understood, I heard it speak.

To begin with the words spoken by the wood were great:

“That was very long ago ( I still remember)

When I was hewn, at the end of the wood,

Removed from my root. Taken away by strong foes

To become then on show, bid me to bear their felon.

Bearing me on their shoulders, until on a hill they set me

Fastened on me foes. I beheld the Lord of mankind

Made haste with great strength on me to mount.

There I then durst not over the word of the Lord

Bend or break, there I saw shake

The earth surface. I might have

Struck  foes down, however I stood fast.

Stripped then they the man (that was God almighty)

Strong and resolute; he ascended the gallows

Brave in many man’s sight, that he redeem the mocked.

Trembling I was embraced by the man, nor dust I bend to earth,

Or fall to earth’s surface. But I was obliged to stand fast.

Rood was I raised up. I lifted the powerful king,

Heaven’s Lord; bend I durst not.                 45

Piercing he and me with dark nails; on me the wounds are visible,

Open malicious wounds. Nor durst I injure no one.

Mocked were we both together. I all with blood wet

Sprinkled from this man’s side, when his spirit left him.

Indeed I on the mound endured this

Cruel event. I saw God

Stretched out. Clouds had

Covered the sky altogether. The Lord’s corpse’s

Its bright radiance, overcome,

dark in shadow. All creation wept

lamenting the King’s fall. Christ was on the rood.

However, there hastened from afar coming

Followers of the Lord. I beheld all.

Sore I was with sorrow distressed, bent down to their hands

Humbled by their mighty courage.  They took away the great almighty,

The followers lifted off the heavy torment, left me a sorrowful warrior

Standing moisture drenched, as if all with arrows wounded.

They lay down the weary limbs, standing at the body’s head;

Beheld him their heaven’s Lord, then to his brief rest,

Exhausted after the mighty struggle.  They began a grave to make.

Warriors of the slain vision; cut down the bright stone,

Set him therein, the triumphant Lord. There began to sing the lament

Wretched in the evening time; then would afterwards depart

Exhausted from great joining, rested with followers.

However, they wept there a good while

Stood in position, afterwards they up and departed

Their warrior, the corpse grown cold,

Fair body. Then men cut me down again

All to earth;  that was a terrible fate!

I was buried as a man in a deep pit. Nevertheless the Lord’s followers,

His friends found me , ………………………..

Girded me with gold and silver.

Now thou might adorn, bend dearly to me

That am honoured far and wide

By men over the earth and all this great creation

Worship they my beacon. On me God’s Son

Suffered for a time. Therefore I am glorious to you

I rise up to heaven, and I may heal

Everyone who alone is in awe of me.

Evil people were before in life’s path,

The right way of is for speech-bearers.

Listen to me in this, honour the world’s Lord

On the wood on the hill, heaven’s Guardian

And there his mother, Mary herself,                                                              92

Of almighty God, for all men

And on behalf of all woman-kind.

Now, I who make these dear comments to you,

That this vision tell to mankind,

Disclose these words of a glorious tree,

Who saw almighty God as he suffered

For mankind, for people’s sins

And Adam’s former act.

Death he tasted; but afterwards the Lord arose

With his great might to help man.

He then to heaven ascended. Here afterwards to come

To this middle earth mankind to seek

On doomsday the Lord himself,

Almighty God, and with his angels

In judgement, with the power to judge the wretched

Every one , for what he earlier here

In this transitory life deserved.

Not able anymore to be afraid

Because of the word of the Lord’s lament.

He asked for many where he saw men

So in the Lord’s name would die

Tasting bitterness as He had formerly died.

Who had been afraid, and feared to think

He to Christ is to begin to declare.

No need then anymore to be afraid

He who before his heart bears this good symbol.

But he who durst the rood see reaching the kingdom

From earth each soul

With the Ruler dwells henceforth.”

Biding then by the tree made joyful

much strength there I alone strove

I of a small company. Strong  in spirit

urged on to depart, endured

a time of longing. I beheld now life’s hope

that of the tree of victory may he seek out

often alone, by all men

to be fully honoured. It was my desire though

the great heart, and protection as well,

I directed to the rood.  I possessed no great power

nor friends on earth. They were away from here

departed from the delight of the world,

they sought the glorious King,

a new life in heaven with God the Father,

to dwell in glory; and I hoped for

every day when I to the Lord’s rood,

which I here on earth formerly saw,

on this transitory life I fetched upon

that I bring from there great bliss,

joy of heaven,  of the Lord’s folk

a place at the feast, there I afterwards may

live in glory, fully with the holy

in joy partaking . To be the Lord’s friend.

he who here on earth before suffered

on the gallows tree for every man’s sins.

He us redeemed and our lives granted,

is home in heaven.  Gladness is to be renewed

with blessedness and bliss for they that endure suffering

the Son triumphant on his journey,

mighty and successful, then he among many came,

a multitude of spirits, on God’s ascent,

Lord Almighty, angels of bliss

besides all the holy, besides they in heaven before

dwelling in glory – to the Ruler came

almighty God, there his abode was.

One other important  point about the central section is it begins with the tree on the edge of the wood, cut down and taken away by enemies. The paralleling device helps us see in turn the end of the section where the tree is, in reverse, found by Friends, and put upright. Around it we glimpse a new wood, the Followers: the tree was at the edge of the wood, now becomes the Rood/Cross fronting the growing wood of Followers. The tree is a metonym as the tree of all trees, and as the growth of Christianity. There is also a deliberate supplanting of the Ash Tree of Scandinavian myth, whose roots are in Hel and crown in Asgard, in the Rood/Cross reaching up to Heaven for the believers.