Memoria Histórica en Beowulf

Cito de la traducción de Burton Raffel:

                                            I heard

The oldest soldiers of all calling

For ale from Hrothgar's daughter's hands,

And Freaw was the way they greeted her when she gave them

The golden cups. And Hrothgar will give her

To Ingeld, gracious Froda's son;

She and that ripening soldier will be married,

The Danes' great lord and protector has declared,

Hoping that his quarrel with the Hathobards can be settled

By a woman. He's wrong: how many wars

Have been put to rest in a prince's bed?

Few. A bride can bring a little

Peace, make spears silent for a time,

But not long. Ingeld and all his men

Will be drinking in the hall, when the wedding is done

And Freaw is his wife; the Danes will be wearing

Gleaming armor and ring-marked old swords;

And the prince and his people will remember those treasures,

Will remember that their fathers once wore them, fell

With those helmets on their heads, those swords in their hands.

And seeing their ancestral armor and weapons

Ingeld and his followers will be angry. And one

Of his soldiers, sitting with ale in his cup

And bitterness heavy in his heart, will remember

War and death, and while he sits and drinks

His sharp old tongue will begin to tempt

Some younger warrior, pushing and probing

For a new war: "That sword, that precious old blade

Over there, I think you know it, friend.

Your father carried it, fought with it the last time

He could swing a sword; the Danes killed him

—And many more of our men—and stripped

The dead bodies: the brave, bold Danes!

One of the princess's people, here,

Now, might be the murderer's son,

Boasting about his treasures, his ancient

Armor—which ought to be yours, by right."

Bitter words will work in a hot-tempered brain,

Pushing up thoughts of the past,

And then, when he can, calling his father's

Name, the youngster will kill some innocent

Dane, a servant—and bloody sword

In hand will run from the hall, knowing

His way through the woods. But war eill begin

As he runs, to the sound of broken oaths,

And its heat will dry up Ingelds's heart,

Leave him indifferent to his Danish bride.

Hrothgar may think the Hathobards love him,

Loving Freaw, but the friendship can't last,

The vows are worthless.