Ageless Words – Before the throne

This is one of my favourite quotes:

“Tomb, thou shalt not hold Him longer; Death is strong, but Life is stronger; Stronger than the dark, the light; Stronger than the wrong, the right; Faith and Hope triumphant say Christ will rise on Easter Day.” – Phillips Brooks

Easter is both a time of death, suffering and a stone tomb. But, more than that, it is a time of life, of renewal, of forgiveness and hope.

When you look around you – whether it is the daily news or perhaps even your own circumstances – it is very easy to forget that there is still good in the world. Days may be dark – but there have always been dark days. Chaos seems all around – but has it not been like that for centuries? Light will triumph in the end because it has already triumphed. There is no need to search for immortality and everlasting joy, because it is already within reach – just beyond the doorway, just beyond the curtain. The Light has already triumphed and the tomb is empty. Death is nothing now.

rume roderas; þæt is rice god,
sylf soðcyning, sawla nergend,
se us eal forgeaf þæt we on lifgaþ,
on deft æt þam ende eallum wealdeð
monna cynne. þæt is meotud sylfa.

The God of glory, the God of all strength,
made the wide firmament
and the kingdom of heaven.
He is the true King,
The Keeper of souls,
The One who forgives,
the One who bestows life here and hereafter –
the Ruler of mankind.
He is the One who is.
~ From “Maxims I – B”, translation by Brigit Pegeen Kelly. 
Quoted from The Word Exchange: Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation, eds. Greg Delanty and Michael Matto. Published by W.W. Norton & Company.www.wwnorton.com/books/ 

Before the throne

In my room I will bow before the throne
And be still and search for words
In the tongues I know
To exalt and praise and plead.

I will go into my room to be alone,
I will be still and think only of this
And realise that there is an ear that will hear my words
On the throne that none can see.
I will think of ancient stone and desert lands harsh to withstand
And buildings great and grand.

But not there, not there will I go, not where all can see
A lone person praying. A broken person pleading.
I will be still and know that here my words are like
A song of praise that I can but imagine and not sing,
That stuttering words will become sweet music,
That simple words will be given flight,
That all asked from the Prince will be answered,
That the Spirit will fill the simple room where I am,
That the King will place his hand on my shoulder,
That I will go from this room with new life.

Tears will be dried,
New life will enter me.
New love will enter me.
New peace will enter me.
I will be unbound and look at the world anew.

I will go into my room to be alone,
To plead, to praise, to humbly ask for new life.
~ Written by Carin Marais

May you have a wonderful and blessed Easter weekend!

Ageless Words Friday - She stood by the cross of Christ

For this last week before Easter, I chose the song “Stabat iuxta Christi crucem”, written by John Browne.

When I first read the lyrics, I was deeply touched by the emotion of the song. All the sadness of the crucifixion is contained. What really touched me in this song was the personal focus on the sadness and horror of a mother having to watch her child killed.

Here is a video of the song, but it can also be listened to here. Below the video is the English lyrics, followed by and Afrikaans translation[1].

Or listen to Anonymous 4's rendition here.

She stood by the cross of Christ

She stood by the cross of Christ

seeing the true light suffer,

the mother of the king of all;

seeing his head crowned

with thorns, his side pierced,

she saw her son die.

She saw his body beaten;

his gentle hands and feet

pierced by cruel men;

she saw his head bent down,

his body stained with the blood of

the shepherd for his sheep.

She saw the bitter drink mixed,

saw her child crucified,

the ruler of all things.

The lashes he endured

the mother and daughter saw,

and she saw the cruel taunts.

The virgin heard these words

from her innocent child:

‘Mother, behold your son.’

The virgin saw her son

saying: ‘It is finished’,

and thus the sword pierced her soul.*

Thus she was left in sorrow

as the loving maiden

saw her son die;

a vast sorrow, a sorrow

that surpassed the martyrdom

of a thousand saints.

Gentle virgin, loving virgin,

hope of all, way of life,

virgin full of grace,

bid and implore your son

that to your servants

he may now grant joy. Amen.

*Luke 11:35, Prophecy of Simeon

Sy het by Christus se kruis gestaan

Sy het by Christus se kruis gestaan

en gesien hoe die ware lig ly,

die moeder van die koning van almal;

het gesien hoe word sy kop met dorings

gekroon, sy sy deurboor,

sy het gesien hoe sterf haar seun.

Sy het gesien hoe word sy lyf geslaan;

sy sagte hande en voete

deur wrede mans deurboor;

sy het sy kop gebuig gesien,

sy liggaam gevlek met die bloed van

die skaapwagter vir sy skape.

Sy het gesien hoe word die bitter drank gemeng,

sy het gesien hoe word haar kind gekruisig,

die heerser van alle dinge.

die slae wat Hy deurstaan het

het die moeder en die dogter gesien,

en sy het die wrede bespotting gesien.

Die maagd het hierdie woorde

van haar onskuldige kind:

‘Moeder, daar is jou seun.’

Die maagd het haar seun sien

sê: ‘Dit is volbring’,

en die swaard het haar siel deurboor.*

Sy is in verdriet gelaat

soos die liefdevolle maagd

haar seun sien sterf;

’n diepe hartseer, ’n verdriet

wat die martelaarskap

van ’n duisend heiliges oortref het.

Sagte maagd, liefdevolle maagd,

hoop van almal, weg van die lewe,

maagd vol genade,

vra en smeek van jou seun

dat hy aan jou dienaars

nou vreugde sal gee. Amen.

*Lukas 11:35, Profesie van Simeon

The translation of the English lyrics quoted here, has been taken from the booklet of Anonymous4’s album Four Centuries of Chant. More info about the album can be found here at Harmonia Mundi or here at thegroup’s website.

More information about “Stabat iuxta Christi crucem”, John Browne and the Eton Choirbook can befound here.

Page from the Peterborough Psalter

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[1] This translation has been made from the English translation quoted here.

Ageless Words: The Battle of Stamford Bridge and Two Poems

(This post first appeared on 15 July 2011.)

This post follows the AWF post about Anglo-Saxon poetry about the Battle of Maldon.

The Battle of Stamford Bridge

The date is 25 September 1066. The place is Stamford Bridge in Yorkshire. On this day Saxons and Vikings will meet in battle. Swords will clash. Shields will break. And poetry will be composed.

(The Old Norse text can be found below the English translation.)

Men say that King Harald recited this verse:

“We went forth in the ranks,

byrnie-less, with blue edges;

helmets shine, I have not mine,

my coat lies on the ship below.”

His byrnie was called Emma; it went all the way down to the middle of his leg, and was so strong that no weapon had any effect on it. Then King Harald said, 'That was poorly composed, so I shall now devise another better verse', and then recited this:

“We do not creep in battle,

before the clashing of weapons,

behind the curve of the shield –

so commanded by the lady of the hawk’s land, true of speech;

the lady bade me, where meet

skulls and the ice of battle,

long ago to carry on high

the helmet’s seat into the clash of metal.”

Now the Angles give the Norsemen a charge and a harsh reception comes in return, and so the long spears were set and it hit hard against the horses.

And the Old Norse:

Þet sæghia menn, at Haraldr konongr kvǽðe vísu þessa:

"Fram gengom vér í fylkingu,
        bryniulausir meðr blár æggiar;
        hialmar skína, hæfkaðek mína;
        nú liggr scrúð várt at scipum niðri."

Emma hét brynia hans; hon tóc ofan í mitt bæin hanum, oc svá stærk at æcki festi vápn á henne. Þá mǽlti Haraldr konongr, "Þetta er illa ort, oc scal gæra nú aðra vísu bætri." oc cvað þá þetta:

"Kriúpum vér firir vópna
        (valtæigs) brökon æighi
        (svá bauð Hilldr) at hialdri
        (haldorð) í bugh skialdar;
        hátt bað mec, þer's mœtozt,
        mennskurð bera forðom,
        lackar ís oc höusar,
        hialmstal í gný malma."

Nú væita Ænglar Norðmönnum áreið oc varð á mót viðrtaca hörð, oc svá váro sættar kæsiurnar oc koms þet mest viðr hestana.

This translation is courtesy of www.utexas.edu – Lessons in Old Norse. For more information about the Battle of Stamford Bridge, you can visithttp://www.britainexpress.com/History/battles/stamford-bridge.htm

Inspirational Friday – Warrior's laments

Or, “Where now the horse and the rider” by JRR Tolkien

For the third week of September’s Tolkien-themed Inspiration Fridays, I’ve chosen one of my favourite poems from Lord of the Rings. Tolkien’s inspiration for this poem can be traced to the Anglo-Saxon poem “The Wanderer”.  Below is Tolkien’s poem, followed by the Anglo-Saxon and contemporary English translation from the appropriate passage of “The Wanderer”.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning,
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

John DiBartolo has also set this poem to music – you can find out more at this website. 

From “The Wanderer”

Hwær cwom mearg? Hwær cwom mago? 

Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?

Hwær cwom symbla gesetu?

Hwær sindon seledreamas?

Eala beorht bune!

Eala byrnwiga!

Eala þeodnes þrym!

Hu seo þrag gewat,

genap under nihthelm,

swa heo no wære.

Stondeð nu on laste

leofre duguþe

weal wundrum heah,

wyrmlicum fah.

Eorlas fornoman

asca þryþe,

wæpen wælgifru,

wyrd seo mære,

ond þas stanhleoþu

stormas cnyssað,

hrið hreosende

hrusan bindeð,

wintres woma,

þonne won cymeð,

nipeð nihtscua,

norþan onsendeð

hreo hæglfare And in contemporary English:

Where is the horse gone? Where the rider?

Where the giver of treasure?

Where are the seats at the feast?

Where are the revels in the hall?

Alas for the bright cup!

Alas for the mailed warrior!

Alas for the splendour of the prince!

How that time has passed away,

dark under the cover of night,

as if it had never been!

Now there stands in the trace

of the beloved troop

a wall, wondrously high,

wound round with serpents.

The warriors taken off

by the glory of spears,

the weapons greedy for slaughter,

the famous fate (turn of events),

and storms beat

these rocky cliffs,

falling frost

fetters the earth,

the harbinger of winter;

Then dark comes,

nightshadows deepen,

from the north there comes

a rough hailstorm

in malice against men. A replica of the Sutton Hoo Helm - absolutely exquisite

Friday Inspiration: Shadow Bride by JRR Tolkien

For this Friday’s inspiration I’ve chosen another of JRR Tolkien’s poems. “Shadow Bride” is another poem from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. Below the poem is a video where the poem is sung beautifully by Colin John Rudd.

Shadow Bride

There was a man who dwelt alone,

as day and night went past

he sat as still as carven stone,

and yet no shadow cast.

The white owls perched upon his head

beneath the winter moon;

they wiped their beaks and thought him dead

under the stars of June.

There came a lady clad in grey

in the twilight shining:

one moment she would stand and stay,

her hair with flowers entwining.

He woke, as had he sprung of stone,

and broke the spell that bound him;

he clasped her fast, both flesh and bone,

and wrapped her shadow round him.

There never more she walks her ways

by sun or moon or star;

she dwells below where neither days

nor any nights there are.

But once a year when caverns yawn

and hidden things awake,

they dance together then till dawn

and a single shadow make.

In other news:

Seeing as this week’s worldbuilding post’s posting went a little pear-shaped this week, I’ll have two worldbuilding posts next week (if all goes according to plan this time).  

Inspiration Friday: a haunting song by Koos du Plessis

One of the earliest songs I can recall hearing and seeing a music video for, was one of Koos du Plessis’ songs. Titled “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind”, or “Fairy tale for a city child”, it also formed part of various Afrikaans poetry lessons.  Much like his “Kinders van die wind” (Children of the wind), it is a beautiful and haunting piece with multiple layers of meaning. Of course, about twenty years later, the song’s meaning to me has grown and evolved, but I can still remember the whole family watching the bittersweet song on the television. Du Plessis made his own translation of the song – “The neon rainbow” – but I could not find it. So, I made my own translation. It is posted below the Afrikaans text, along with a video where the song is sung by Du Plessis.

Sprokie vir ‘n stadskind

                                                – Koos du Plessis

As die reën van stof en roet verby is,

en die rook verdwyn,

 sal daar in die sterrelose hemel,

’n neonboog verskyn.

En kyk maar goed,

want as jy hom vind,

vertel ek vir jou ’n sprokie, my kind,

van ’n skatkis met ou kettings gebind

aan die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

 oor kranse van beton.

As jy aanhou stap vir tienduisend ure,

 sal jy dalk daar kom.

Maar hier moet jy jou nimmer laat bind,

want so lui die ou, ou sprokie, my kind,

as jy geluk en vrede wil vind,

soek die neonboog se punt.

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere,

kyk nie eenmaal om,

dalk vind jy die land

van blou saffiere

en, dalk, ’n brokkie son.

Fairy tale for a city child

When the rain of dust and soot has passed,

and the smoke disappears,

a neon rainbow will appear

in the starless sky.

And look well,

for if you find it

I’ll tell you a fairy tale, my child,

of a treasure chest bound with old chains

to the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

over cliffs of concrete.

If you keep on walking

for ten thousand hours

you may get there.

But here you must not let yourself be bound,

for so runs the old, old fairy tale, my child,

if you want to find happiness and peace;

find the end of the neon rainbow.

Follow it every night across black rivers,

do not look around once.

Maybe you’ll find the country

of blue sapphires

and, maybe, a small piece of the sun. 

Have a wonderful weekend!
A Agrai tellarias or s’agrélar silássa.

Ageless Words Friday: “Gebed” by Koos du Plessis

Although this week’s “Ageless Words” are only a few decades old; I do believe these lyrics to be “ageless”. It is written in Afrikaans by one of my favourite songwriters; Koos du Plessis. Born on 10 May 1945 as Jacobus Johannes du Plessis, Koos started writing songs during his tertiary studies. Some of his best known and loved songs are “Kinders van die wind” (“Children of the wind”) and “Sprokie vir ’n stadskind” (translated as “The neon rainbow” by Koos himself). He also wrote one of my favourite Christmas songs, “Somerkersfees” (“Summer Christmas”)  This week, however, I bring you “Gebed” (“Prayer”) – one of my favourite songs. The English translation[1] can be found below the Afrikaans lyrics, as well as a recording of the song.

Koos du Plessis (1945-1984)

Gebed

Laat my nooit die grond verlaat nie.
Laat my in U skadu bly.
Gee dat elke aardse vreugde en vrees,
eindelik nietig word vir my.
Elke afdraai paadjie ken ek.
Elke keer het ek verdwaal.
Elke keer het u my iewers kom haal.
Maak dit Heer, die laaste maal.
Elke dag is ’n gedagte.
Elke kamer net gehuur.
Elke aardse droom van rykdom en roem,
net ’n skadu teen die muur.
Wat ek is, is net genade.
Wat ek het, is net geleen.
Eindelik smag ek na U waters van rus.
Lei my, Heer, vanaand daarheen.

Prayer

Let me never leave the ground.

Let me stay in Your shadow.

Grant that every earthly joy and fear

at last become insignificant to me.

All the branching paths I know.

Every time I lost my way.

Every time You came to collect me somewhere.

Make it, Lord, the last time.

Every day is a thought.

Every room only let.

Every earthly dream of wealth and fame

but a shadow on the wall.

What I am is only mercy.

What I have is only borrowed.

At last I yearn for Your waters of rest.

Lead me, Lord, there tonight.

[1] This translation was done by me. 

Ageless Words Friday: The Song of Wandering Aengus

This poem is copied from the book The Poets’ Company (1951[1]), containing English poems selected by E.W. Parker. It is a small red volume, bound in cloth and with a faded name written on the side of the pages in pencil. I picked it up at a local library sale (where I’m known as the ‘girl looking for old books’) and found some of the pages filled with class notes and some doodles which were probably done during a not-so-interesting class.

One of the poets included in the volume is William Butler Yeats; represented by four poems including “The Song of Wandering Aengus”. Below is the poem and the poem set to music, performed by Nóirín ní Riain (and the free – and legal – mp3 can be downloaded here[2]).

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor

I went to blow the fire a-flame,

But something rustled on the floor,

And some one called me by my name:

It had become a glimmering girl

With apple blossom in her hair

Who called me by my name and ran

And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

"I went out to the hazel wood..."

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[1] First published 1939.

[2] With thanks to Marc Gunn and his wonderful Celtic mp3 Magazine.