from the damaged Anglo-Saxon
Wonder at this stone wall wasted by fate
the constructions of giants crumble in a crushed city.
Buckled ceilings are strewn to the ground towers stumble
the broken gate is stubborn with frost.
This hacked at torn fallen roof a shelter from the storm
eaten by time. Though dead and gone
the master builders remain locked in the earth
in the fierce clutch of the earth until a hundred generations
of people are gone. This wall made grey with lichen
and crusted with russet has always endured kingdom after kingdom
has survived the blaze. Tall and vast it collapses.
Still it stands mind blasted
beautiful ancient building
crust of mud ring
spirit the brilliantminded creator
quickly weaved a design of rings to bind
the wall supports together with wondrous wires.
The buildings of the city were bright so many bath houses
so many towering gabled structures the great din of warriors
sounds of happiness filling the countless mead halls
until all of that was transformed ruined by fate.
Everything the slaughtered fell. The days of pestilence came.
Death took all the brave men away.
The standing city turned to scraps. The rebuilders
and the armies fell to the earth. From then the buildings were abandoned
and the curved red roof tore away from
the tiles of the vaulted city. It fell ruined to the ground
shattered into rubble where many men before
happy in their hearts goldbright and adorned with splendour
full to the brim with pride and wine shining in their war ornaments
looked over treasure and silver and beautiful gems
and riches and possessions and precious jewels
over that shining city in the wide kingdom.
Buildings of stone remained. The water spring cast out heat
a great swell. The wall enclosed it entirely
in its bright breast where the baths were
steaming hot. It was perfect.
Then they let the surge free
the hot water gushed over the grey stone
ntil the hot spiralling pool
there were the baths
it is a beautiful thing