The Ice
A great teeth-chattering was mine because of
half sprawling by the stone walls
last night in the middle of a naked wind
4 and ice, oh how cold was the journey!
Usual is a winter walk (a crop of [snow on] a slope)
by the house of one [with the] appearence of a wave's colour.
It's true that there he was, woe to the lonely
8 man who is filled with anger.
[I was] asked, because of her constant pure memories,
by the radiant gem on the other side of the wall:
'Is it pleasant to endure the cold?
12 Are you a man, by God from heaven?'
'I was an earthly man today by the light of day,
who had been baptized;
but I don't know, because of my burden of a painful wound,
16 now (forever radiant) what I am.'
[I] fell across (a harsh feeling indeed)
a hurdle of hard cold ice.
Into the swirling of waves of water (a promise's pain)
20 I fell, I collapsed completely.
When (a strange and poor sight)
the platemail (round surface of a breast) of [the] waters broke,
from afar was heard from the pool of bright ice
24 a cry and a shout; my plague [was] harsh:
blue webs of cloth (deadly debilitation)
like a bright and dry sky.
[There was] the feeble appearance of a clear floor like lead,
28 mirrors of glass, great marl pits.
Their appearance [was] terrible, blankets of muck,
a slippery, shining quarry.
Now it's worse here for me
32 because of ice than on the hill up there;
the shining spikes threaten
my slender flesh from the eaves,
great nails (drops of judgement)
36 as long as those of an iron harrow.
Straight hollow pins when they'd fall,
each one completely, they're icicles.
Heavy oat-husks stared at me,
40 spears of lead by a wall,
knives from slices of ice without doubt
newly sharpened in the moon's last phase,
bubbling boils, a frozen plague of spit,
44 a cold morning for the skewers of ice.
It's true that one must (very constant shouts)
avoid the weapons of ice's war.
Woe me for freezing in the path
48 of the thistle-spear of an evil sidewind.
I know (an opinion [held] far and wide)
that shoes are no better against a strong chill
(a wound of passion, quick and bubbling tingling blood)
52 that if they were not on poor feet [at all].
I am the gentle man who wastes away greatly
who came to the mountain of ice,
who is seen still (a long sleep,
56 a poorly appearance upon him,
because of death [resulting from] perdition)
[looking] very feeble and all of ice.
A sturdy slice of the rough and brittle ice
60 poured scorn on me.
It's sticky like glue, a cruel chill
climbs audaciously, like bird-lime.
Since I shan't have (fine and splendid intention)
64 a place in the house of [a girl] the colour of fair fine snow
by rights (desolate trouble)
I would have [to have] (were [it] to be had, may it be soon)
a thick, radiant heat-haze, flowing colour of sunshine,
68 and sun which might melt this.