Riddle 30

Believe me, friend —

nothing like multiple

hundreds of wonders 

of these mundial gardens,

elaborated & embroidered.

Another case in point —

I’ve seen her, preened engine

hot to go, trim to trot

pawing at the pavement,

guldering to get her gone.

She didn’t have, this fine filly,

sight nor hands, shoulders

nor arms. Such commodious 

cleverness to bump about

on just one boot, stumping

along tumblingly, bumbling

across fields. Rounded

out with so many ribs, 

mouth nibbling amidst.

Comfort to the children:

yare, carting up the chow,

ladens out the larder

for this fellow-ship —

and yielding to y’all

her yearly due to any

and all the tidbits tasty

to the people,

both lofty & lowly.

Riddle at this, if you know how,

wise guy, handy with words,

just what sort this gurl might be.

Riddle 30

Is þes middan-geard  missenlīcum

wīsum gewlītegad,  wrǣttum gefrætwad.

Sīþum sellic ic seah  searo hweorfan,

grindan wið grēote,  giellende faran.

Næfde sellīcu wiht  sȳne ne folme,

exle ne earmas;  sceal on ānum fēt

searo-cēap swīfan,  swīþe feran,

faran ofer feldas.  Hæfde fella ribba;

mūð wæs on middan.  Mon-cynne nyt,

fere, foddur-wēlan  folc-scipe drēogeð,

wist in wīgeð,  ond werum gieldeð

gaful gēara gehwām  þæs þe gūman brūcað,

rīce ond hēane.  Rēce, gif þū cūnne,

wīs worda glēaw,  hwæt sīo wiht sīe.