Home
Poems: My Own
Poems: By others
Poems: Classical
Poems: Multilingual
Music & Songs
Stories & Myths
Links to Poetry
FAQ
Contact
Submit a Poem
The latest

 

~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

Weland                         Poetic from: Villanelle

I blow the charcoal flame for forging steel;
I swing my hammer, strike again; sparks fly.
My legs are withered and shall never heal.

This bloody-glowing weapon I anneal,
I quench the blade. Steam hisses its reply.
I blow the charcoal flame for forging steel.

Once I lived free, and knew life’s highest weal.
I found my battle-maid—in wars she’d vie.
My legs are withered and shall never heal.

These hands once stroked her, knew that skin’s soft feel;
They saw her face more clearly than my eye.
I blow the charcoal flame for forging steel.

Hamstrung by Nidhad now, I’m forced to kneel;
My swan-maid's flown, my gold’s now his supply.
My legs are withered and shall never heal.

This smithy echoes with my hammer's peal.
Naught else to do. Harsh trade my hands now ply:
I blow the charcoal flame for forging steel.

His daughter sometimes comes to bring my meal;
I catch her glance of pity, hear her sigh:
My legs are withered and shall never heal.

I smith revenge within my mind, conceal
My thought: the king’s twin sons shall surely die.
I blow the charcoal flame for forging steel.

To forge my wings shall be my last ordeal;
She had wings, too. . . I’ll seek her in the sky.
My legs are wounded and shall never heal.
I blow the charcoal flame for forging steel.

© Ben Waggoner

Ben Waggoner has translated numerous Old Norse Sagas. His books on Lulu.
 

Back to : [ by Theme ]   [ by Author ]   [ by Title ]