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The Poetic Edda

Page 27

by Jackson Crawford

trampled by horses!

  White and black horses,

  gray horses, Gothic horses,

  horses he broke to ride

  for his errands of war.

  [4] “You, my sons,

  are the last dregs

  of my noble family,

  you alone live of this line of kings.

  [5] “I have become as lonely

  as an ash tree on the tundra,

  I am stripped of my family

  like a pine-tree stripped of needles,

  deprived of hopes

  like a forest that’s lost all its leaves

  when lightning strikes it

  on a hot day.”

  [6] Then Hamthir spoke,

  he was a bold young man:

  “You had little good to say

  about Hogni

  when your brothers woke Sigurth

  from his last sleep—

  {335} you lay in bed

  while his killers laughed.

  [7] “Then your blue and white

  striped sheets were reddened

  in the flowing blood

  of your first husband.

  Sigurth was dead,

  you stared at his corpse.

  Your joy was gone,

  and Gunnar caused it.

  [8] “You had it worse

  when you took vengeance

  on Attila, and killed

  your own sons, Erp and Eitil.

  There was no one who’d

  swing a battle-loving sword

  against your two little boys,

  so you had to do it yourself.”

  [9] Sorli spoke then,

  he was wise: “I don’t want

  to exchange barbs

  with my mother,

  but the two of you

  have left something unsaid:

  Mother, what are you asking for,

  what will make you stop weeping?

  [10] “You weep for your brothers

  and your dear children,

  for children you bore

  and who died in horror.

  But mother, you will weep

  for us two as well—

  we will mount up on our horses

  and die far away from here.”

  {336} [11] They mounted their horses,

  they were ready to fight,

  those young men

  rode over misty mountains,

  they rode Hunnish horses,

  to avenge their sister’s murder.

  [12] Then Erp spoke,

  one fateful time,

  he looked proud

  sitting on his horse—

  “It’s no good to show

  a coward the way to glory.”

  To Hamthir and Sorli, it seemed

  this bastard sure thought he was brave.

  [13] They met on the street’s

  wide cobblestones, and asked him:

  “Little dark-haired bastard,

  how will you help us in this fight?”

  [14] Their half-brother

  answered as best he could,

  he said he would help

  his brothers like a foot helps a foot.

  But they doubted him:

  “How can a foot help a foot?

  How can a hand help a hand,

  grown from the same flesh?”

  [15] They drew their swords

  from their scabbards

  and with their sharp blades

  they did an evil spirit’s work.

  They reduced their numbers

  by a third, when two brothers

  let their brother

  sink dead to the earth.

  {337} [16] They shook out their cloaks,

  they sheathed their swords,

  and those noble, well-dressed men

  continued on their way.

  [17] Their road lay ahead,

  a dangerous road.

  They found Randver

  hanging from a beam,

  on a wind-chilled gallows

  east of the city,

  and its timbers creaked

  and urged them onward.

  [18] There was joyful noise

  in the beer-happy hall,

  when the two young Goths

  arrived, and no one heard them,

  till a bold, watchful man

  blew his horn.

  [19] He went to tell

  Jormunrekk

  that strangers in helmets

  had been spotted:

  “Command us, lord!

  Strong men are approaching.

  It appears that woman you killed

  had powerful relatives.”

  [20] Jormunrekk laughed,

  and stroked his beard—

  he stood up to fight,

  drunk on wine.

  He wagged his brown beard

  over his white shield,

  and cast his golden chalice

  from his hand.

  {338} [21] “I’d feel lucky,”

  Jormunrekk said,

  “to see Hamthir and Sorli

  in my hall.

  I’d tie those boys up

  with their bow-strings,

  let those grandsons of Gjuki

  choke on a noose.”

  [22] Then his mother spoke,

  standing among the men,

  the soft-fingered lady

  spoke to her son:

  “I think they swore an oath

  that they cannot fulfill;

  how can those two men alone

  fight successfully against

  ten hundred Goths

  in their own high hall?”

  [23] There was war in the house,

  that ale-house shook,

  men lay in pools of blood

  that poured from the Goths’ chests.

  [24] Hamthir the bold

  then stood and said:

  “King Jormunrekk,

  you said you’d feel lucky

  if my brother and I came

  to visit your hall.

  Now your arms are cut off,

  and your legs are cut off,

  and thrown into the fire

  before your eyes, in your own hall.”

  [25] Then the king

  began to roar

  in his suit of armor,

  like a bear would roar:

  “Men, throw stones at them!

  {339} Spears won’t pierce them,

  blades and iron do nothing

  to Jonaker’s sons!”

  [26] Then Sorli turned

  to Hamthir:

  “You did poorly, brother,

  to egg this old windbag on.

  A man can still catch death

  from an enemy without limbs.

  [27] “You have courage, Hamthir,

  but you have no wisdom.

  And a man lacks too much

  when he lacks wisdom.

  [28] “Jormunrekk would lose his head,

  if only Erp still lived,

  our bold brother,

  the one we killed on the road.

  Evil spirits encouraged us

  to kill our hero-souled brother,

  our battle-brave companion,

  and go without him in our truest need.

  [29] “I didn’t think

  we had the character of wolves,

  that we would kill a brother

  like faithless wolves in a forest,

  greedy for the food

  and wealth of others.

  [30] “But we fought well,

  we stand over sword-torn

  Gothic corpses and set a table for the eagles.

  We earned honor here,

  though we are fated to die today—

  a man will not live one day longer

  than the Norns have decided.”

  {340} [31] And there Sorli fell

  at the threshold,

  and Hamthir fell

  in the alley.

  This is
called the Old Tale of Hamthir.

  {341} APPENDIX: THE COWBOY HAVAMAL

  “The Cowboy Havamal” is a condensation of the wisdom of the first, most down-to-earth part of Havamal (often called the Gestathattr, it includes stanzas 1–79, give or take a few) into mostly five-line stanzas of a Western American English dialect. I have not endeavored to render this dialect phonetically in a thoroughly consistent way, but only to present an “eye dialect” of sorts, to suggest the dry tones of the accent behind the words.

  While my other translation of Havamal in this volume is more complete, the tone of this one seems more authentic to me. The voice is that of my grandfather, sad with wisdom and cynical with experience, which I have always heard when reading this poem in the original.

  [1] USE YER EYES,

  and never walk blind.

  There ain’t no tellin’

  where there’s someone waitin’

  to put one over on you.

  [2] Don’t be unkind to a wanderer.

  You know the type: Waiting,

  proud, outside your doorstep.

  Give ’im a break,

  and let ’im in.

  [3] Let ’im get close to the fire,

  and have a chance

  to dry his clothes.

  He’s been walkin’ in the mountains,

  and that wears a man down.

  [4] You know what he’s lookin’ for:

  Some clothes to change into,

  a few kind words, not too many,

  {342} a chance to tell his story,

  a chance to hear what you’ll say.

  [5] You ought to have

  a damn sight of learnin’,

  before you step outside that door.

  It’s a lot easier to stay at home,

  but no one’ll listen to you if you stay there.

  [6] Now, that ain’t to say

  that you ought to be showy

  about your learnin’.

  Don’t say too much

  and you’ll say more o’ the right things.

  [7] And don’t ever think

  that other folks

  have nothin’ to teach you, either.

  You only stand to gain

  by keeping yer ears open, too.

  [8] People’s approval ain’t nothin’ you need.

  Half the time it ain’t true.

  Just be sure you think you’re right;

  and that you’re comfortable in your own skin;

  you’re all you can count on.

  [9] And while you should listen

  to people’s advice,

  don’t just do whatever they say.

  You’ve got a head on your own shoulders;

  use it, boy.

  [10] That head on your shoulders

  is the best thing you’ll ever have.

  And no amount o’ money

  can make up for not havin’ it.

  Keep it in good shape.

  [11] The worst way to make yourself

  into a goddamned fool

  is to drink too much.

  {343} Stay out o’ the liquor,

  except you know yer limits.

  [12] Oh, folks’ll say this and that,

  how much fun it is to drink and all.

  But the more you drink,

  the less you know,

  and that’s a poor exchange.

  [13] I’ve been drunk, I’m not sayin’ otherwise.

  Let me tell you what it’s like:

  It’s as if a bird hovered over your head,

  drinking more of your wits

  the more you drink.

  [14] Lord a’mighty, I was drunk,

  I was shamefaced drunk.

  And I didn’t have myself

  near as good a time

  as if I’d gone home sober.

  [15] So keep quiet,

  keep your head clear,

  and don’t back off from a fight.

  You’ll be happier that way—

  and you’ll die soon enough.

  [16] You’re a goddamned fool

  if you think you’ll live forever

  just because you won’t fight.

  Say nobody ever kills you—

  old age is no peach, either.

  [17] I’ll say another thing about drinkin’—

  I swear I’m nearly done:

  But just you think how much dumber

  a dumb man is after a few drinks:

  Who ever heard more awful bullshit?

  [18] Travel, see the country,

  never miss a chance to get outdoors.

  You’ll only get smarter

  {344} by knowin’ more people, more places,

  more ways to be a man.

  [19] Accept hospitality, but don’t be a jackass.

  Folk can only offer so much.

  And if you want to talk,

  just consider whether what you want to say

  matters to anybody else.

  [20] A belly’s a sure sign

  that a man’s not in control of himself.

  Folks’ll laugh if you’re eatin’ too much.

  Yer stomach’s not yer head—

  you can put too much in it.

  [21] You ever seen a fat cow?

  I mean, they’re all fat, but only to a point:

  They don’t eat so much they hurt themselves.

  And a cow is just about the dumbest thing

  on this damn earth.

  [22] Nothin’ to learn from a fella

  who won’t but laugh at everybody else.

  What he ain’t learned

  would do him some good:

  He’s got his own faults.

  [23] You should lie down to sleep

  and not think about tomorrow;

  you’ll take care of it then.

  If you worry at night, you get nothing done,

  and you’re in worse shape for the day.

  [24] Not everybody

  who laughs with you

  is yer friend.

  Someone who won’t but laugh

  hasn’t thought about much.

  [25] Not everybody

  who laughs with you

  is yer friend.

  {345} It’s one thing if a fella’ll laugh with you,

  it’s another if you can count on ’im.

  [26] You’re a damn fool

  if you think you can just figure out

  a way out of any problem.

  It’s good to think ahead,

  but sometimes things go wrong.

  [27] I wish more damn fools

  would just keep their mouths shut.

  If they did, we might not realize

  just how many goddamned fools

  there are in this old world.

  [28] Ain’t ever been a single person

  who can keep his mouth shut

  when it comes to other people.

  But try not to gossip,

  even if it makes you look smarter.

  [29] You will talk yourself into trouble

  if you don’t think before you speak:

  Hold that tongue, and think a little,

  or you’ll find out that it’s a long whip,

  and it’s gonna hit you from behind.

  [30] Don’t make fun of someone else,

  even if he owes you money,

  and don’t pester people with questions.

  [31] Sarcastic people sound smart

  when they make fun of someone else.

  But making fun dudn’t make you smart,

  and that’s time you could be putting

  into somethin’ more worthwhile.

  [32] A fella might be nice enough;

  there’s still something

  that’ll make ’im want to fight.

  Where there’s more than one man,

  you’ll eventually have a fight.

  {346} [33] You shouldn’t sit around

  and wait to eat all day.

  Go ahead and eat
,

  unless you’re eatin’ later with a friend,

  otherwise you’ll just be useless.

  [34] Don’t concern yerself

  with anybody

  who won’t repay yer friendship in kind.

  Better to walk a long way to a friend,

  than a short way to some ornery jackass.

  [35] Don’t overstay yer welcome.

  Folks like company, but not too much,

  and start to resent a guest ’fore long.

  So git goin’ after a while,

  or you’ll git on people’s nerves.

  [36] It dudn’t matter where you live,

  long as you have a roof over you.

  Better to call some place home,

  even if it ain’t much to look at,

  than to beg for ever’thing.

  [37] It dudn’t matter where you live,

  long as you have a place.

  Better to call a place home,

  or you’ll feel worse and worse,

  as you beg for more and more.

  [38] Keep yer guns close.

  I don’t care what they say,

  there ain’t no tellin’

  when there’ll be call for ’em.

  An armed man has a shot.

  [39] Don’t think a generous host

  wouldn’t gladly take something

  in return for yer room and board.

  Never seen a man so nice

  he wouldn’t like a little in return.

  {347} [40] Don’t save so much money

  that you don’t use any of it.

  You’ll die, after all,

  and it might not go to people you like.

  The world ain’t aimin’ to please you.

  [41] Give yer friend

  a gift that’ll matter to ’im:

  Weapons, clothes, you know the kind.

  This kind of giving, if he gits you back,

  will mean he’ll have yer back when it counts.

  [42] Be friendly

  to anybody friendly to you,

  and repay their gifts.

  Repay good with good,

  and bad with bad.

  [43] Be friendly

  to anybody friendly to you;

  and to his friends, too.

  But be careful not to make friends

  with your friends’ enemies.

  [44] If you have a good friend,

  and really trust ’im,

  you should share yer mind with ’im,

  exchange gifts with ’im,

  visit ’im often.

  [45] If you have another friend

  and don’t trust him worth a spit,

  but want somethin’ from ’im,

  speak kindly, but don’t be surprised

  if you find yerself betrayin’ that kindness.

  [46] Now this fella you don’t trust:

  That’s not to say you shouldn’t talk to ’im,

  laugh with ’im, even—

  hell, who can you trust?

  But repay ’im just what he gives you.

  {348} [47] I was young once, I walked alone,

  and I got lost on my way.

  It wasn’t alone that I found happiness,

  but in good company, good friends;

 

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