Ic eom heard ond scearp, [i]ngonges strong,
forðsiþes from, frean unforcuð,
wade under wambe ond me weg sylfa
ryhtne geryme. Rinc bið on ofeste,
5 se mec on þyð æftanweardne,
hæleð mid hrægle; hwilum ut tyhð
of hole hatne, hwilum eft fareð
on nearo nathwær, nydeþ swiþe
suþerne secg. Saga hwæt ic hatte.
I am hard and pointed, strong going in,
firm departing, not unfamiliar to a lord.
I go beneath the belly, and myself open
a fitting passage. The warrior is in haste,
5 who presses me from behind,
the hero in garments; sometimes he draws me out,
hot from the hole, sometimes again ventures
into the confines of… I know not where. He vigorously urges,
the man from the south. Say what I am called.
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