The Wanderer

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Two more weeks to seal a deal - we reflect on a day of high drama at the High Court. A win, a loss and all the takeover goss. What a week. The panel discuss the Millwall game and where next for Wanderers. The latest on the takeover, a look back at Leeds and how many points can Bolton get? The pod talks Norwich, a Bolton team doing well and Jack sets you a challenge. The pod reflects on a rallying display at Birmingham and an insight into Parky's mind.

Rumours abound at Bolton and the pod try to pick them apart.

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Plus a look at Feb fixtures. The pod goes down the Luca Connell rabbit hole and we discuss potential transfers. The team discuss West Brom, the protests and Josh Magennis' new barnet. The pod reflects on a Bolton fans' forum and looks ahead to the game against West Brom. Where to start? The pod looks back on an extraordinary week at Bolton Wanderers.

The panel discuss iconic games, try to ignore Hull and peek into the transfer window. A WIN. The panel get used to talking about winning, with a brief trip down memory lane.

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The panel discuss the defeat to Leeds, plus the GIF that keeps on giving. What's going on? The panel pick over the cruel defeat at Norwich and argue about Leeds.


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The gang are joined by Marc Iles to look back over a dramatic week for Bolton. This is by no means a literal translation of the lines towards the end of this poem, Rather it is an attempt to convey the melancholy mood of the old soldier who has outlived both his comrades-in-arms and the social superiors he respected and who valued his prowess in battle. Younger men probably see an old bore who is always scrounging a drink, a bite to eat, or a warm corner where he can to sit and bend the ear of anyone foolish enough to greet him.

NB wyrml? It is often suggested this refers to the encircling ditches characteristic of multivalate Iron Age hillforts. When sorrow and sloth — settle together he anguish-enclosed — oft bindeth. Thinketh he in mood — that his master-king clasps and kisses, — and on knee lays hands and head, — as he betimes did in years-done — gift-stools delight. Then awakeneth — again friendless groom, far sees before him — fallow waves, bathing brim-fowls — broadening feathers falling hoarfrost and snow — hail be-mingled.

Then be-it that heavy — heart burns, sorely after his own-kind. I am just the scrivener here—working through word-roots wherever possible to restore this masterpiece to something of its original glory. The more I work with it the more I appreciate the Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse form. Iambic pentameter it is not—nor free verse. The possible word choices are heavily constrained by the alliteration requirement.

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The requirement for balanced couplets is equally constraining but also liberating. Hostetter, I would like to know what you think of this rendering of lines This rendering preserves or otherwise restores the Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse form but using words that have intuitively approachable meanings to modern readers. It reads almost word-for-word on the Anglo-Saxon. The meter is authentic Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse as near as I can tell.

Oft him enclosed — is afforded, Maker mercies — though he be mood-caring beyond lake-lode — long should he-row with hands — hoarfrost-cold sea wading wretch-paths. So quoth earth-stepper, — earth-footman mindful, wrathful wound-slaughter — worshiped-kinfolks ruined:. Oft I must alone — aurora-morns when my cares moan. No weary-mood kinsman — weird-fate can withstand Nor rough heart — can help perform. Thus the doom-prone — drearyness oft in his breast-cave — bindeth fast; So my mood-spirit — mine I must, oft anguish-caring — earth-home deprived free-kinfolks far — fetters fasten since years gone — gold-friend mine earthen hole-spot draped — and I humble thence waded winter-caring — over waves bound sought hall dreary — zinc bestower where I far or near — find might one in mead-hall who — my kinfolks knew, or me, friendless — comfort would, wean with delight.

What thou knowest how joyless it-be to journey with sorrow when he little has — a loved protector: wretch-paths weary him, — not wound gold, heart-fort freezes him, — not folded earth-hoard. Recalls he kin-clans — and coin-clench, how he in younghood — his gold-friend weaned to feast. Hi Bret, Still owe you comments on your Beowulf lines, but thank you for sharing these.

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But all poems require work and revision, so keep going. What you have here are amazing bones for further work! Thanks for these comments. This is encouraging. Quotations from other authors, editors and translators mentioned in the bibliography are under the copyright of their publishers, except for those whose copyright term has ended. Last update of the site: July 30 th Contact us:. Often the solitary man himself experiences favour,. Fate is very inflexible.

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So spoke the earth-stepper, mindful of miseries,. Often, at every dawn, alone I must. There is now no one living. I know too truly.


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Nor can the weary mind withstand fate,. Therefore those eager for glory must often. Thus I have had to bind my heart with fetters,. He knows, who is able to know,. He remembers retainers and receiving of treasure,.

Joy has entirely gone. Therefore he knows, who must long forgo. Then he awakes again, the friendless man,. Then the wounds of the heart re the more heavy,. Sorrow is renewed. The spirit of seabirds do not bring many. Therefore I cannot think throughout this world.

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So this middle-earth. Therefore no man may become wise, before he has had. A wise man shall be patient:.

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