Tag: Beowulf

Fragment

by Jorge Luis Borges

A sword,

A sword of iron forged in the cold of the dawn,

A sword with runes

That none can disregard or decipher from the rest,

A sword of the Baltic to be sung in Northumbria. 

A sword the poets

Raise to ice and fire,

A sword for one king to pass to another king

And then to a dream,

A sword to be loyal

Until the sure hour of Destiny,

A sword that illuminates the battle.

A sword in the hand

That governs the gorgeous battle, the weavings of men,

A sword in the hand

That reddened the wolf’s teeth

And the fierce beak of the raven,

A sword in the hand

That will shower the red gold,

A sword in the hand

That brings death to the serpent in his bed of gold,

A sword in the hand

That wins a king and loses a king,

A sword in the hand

That ravages the jungle of spears.

A sword in the hand of Beowulf.