%title [no subject]
%date 2004-07-11 18:10:58
:diary:livejournal:fossils:

<details text="Mé Éva"><summary>Mé Éva</summary><strong>Mé Éva</strong>
Mé Éva, ben Ádaim uill;
mé ro sáraig Ísu thall;
mé ro thall nem ar mo chloinn;
cóir is mé do-chóid sa crann.

Ropa lem rítheg dom réir;
olc in míthoga rom-thár;
olc in cosc cinad rom-chrín;
for-ír! ní hidan mo lám.

Mé tuc in n-uball an-úas;
do-chúaid t ar cumang mo chraís;
in céin marat-sam re lá;
de ní scarat mná re baís.

Ní bíad eigredd in cach dú;
ní bíad geimred gáethmar glé;
ní baíd iffern; ní bíad brón;
ní bíad oman; minbad mé.

</details>
<lj-cut text="Slay Me Suddenly"><strong>Slay Me Suddenly</strong>
Your yen two wol slee me sodenly;
I may the beautee of hem not sustene,
So woundeth hit throughout my herte kene.

And but your word wol helen hastily
My hertes wounde, while that hit is grene,

Your yen two wol slee me sodenly;
I may the beautee of hem not sustene.

Upon my trouthe I sey you feithfully
That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene;
For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.

So hath your beautee fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;
For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.
Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;
I sey you sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;

So hath your beautee fro your herte chaced
Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.
Allas! that Nature hath in you compassed
So greet beautee, that no man may atteyne
To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.</lj-cut>
<lj-cut text="Razreesh"><strong>Razreesh (translated)</strong>
Cut me like a fruit
In the still of your room.
I will gladly be your slave
Until you tell me to go away 

<em>(Cut me in half like a peach, apple, or pear,
Eat me for breakfast
And spit out my little bones)</em>

I will grow through your floor in a shape of a tree
And will be with you everyday.
Until you cut me down
Until you get bored someday.</lj-cut>
<lj-cut text="The Sour Grove">For Alk.  Be warned, it's dirty ^^
<strong>The Sour Grove</strong>
Sawden awdl, sidan ydiw
sem fach, len ar gont wen wiw
lleiniau mewn man ymannerch,
y llwyn sur, llawn yw o serch,
fforest falch iawn, ddawn ddifrog
ffris ffraill, ffwrwr dwygaill deg
breisglwyn merch, drud annerch dro,
berth addwyn, Duw'n borth iddo.</lj-cut>
<lj-cut text="Truth"><strong>Truth</strong>
Fle fro the pres, and dwelle with sothefastnesse,
Suffise thin owen thing, thei it be smal;
For hord hath hate, and clymbyng tykelnesse,
Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal.
Savour no more thanne the byhove schal;
Reule weel thiself, that other folk canst reede;
And trouthe schal delyvere, it is no drede.

Tempest the nought al croked to redresse,
In trust of hire that tourneth as a bal.
Myche wele stant in litel besynesse;
Bywar therfore to spurne ayeyns an al;
Stryve not as doth the crokke with the wal.
Daunte thiself, that dauntest otheres dede;
And trouthe shal delyvere, it is no drede.

That the is sent, receyve in buxumnesse;
The wrestlyng for the worlde axeth a fal.
Here is non home, here nys but wyldernesse.
Forth, pylgryme, forth! forth, beste, out of thi stal!
Know thi contré! loke up! thonk God of al!
Hold the heye weye, and lat thi gost the lede;
And trouthe shal delyvere, it is no drede. </lj-cut>