.. and Simon Armitage's fine translation

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight

From the translation by Simon Armitage

'Gawain,' said the green knight, 'By God, I'm glad

the favour I've called for will fall from your fist.

You've perfectly repeated the promise we've made

and the terms of the contest are crystal clear.

Except for one thing: you must solemnly swear

that you'll seek me yourself; that you'll search me out

to the ends of the earth to earn the same blow

as you'll dole out today in this decorous hall.'

'But where will you be? Where's your abode?

You're a man of mystery, as God is my maker.

Which court do you come from and what are you called?

There is knowledge I need, including your name,

then by wit I'll work out the way to your door

and keep to our contract, so cross my heart.'

'But enough at New Year. It needs nothing more,'

said the war-man in green to worthy Gawain.

'I could tell you the truth once you've taken the blow;

if you smite me smartly I could spell out the facts

of my house and home and my name, if it helps,

then you'll pay me a visit and vouch for our pact.

Or if I keep quiet you might cope much better,

loafing and lounging here, looking no further. But

you stall!

Now grasp that gruesome axe

and show your striking style.'

He answered, 'Since you ask,'

and touched the tempered steel.

In the standing position he prepared to be struck,

bent forward, revealing a flash of green flesh

as he heaped his hair to the crown of his head,

the nape of his neck now naked and ready.

Gawain grips the axe and heaves it heavenwards,

plants his left foot firmly on the floor in front,

then swings it swiftly towards the bare skin.

The cleanness of the strike cleaved the spinal cord

and parted the fat and the flesh so far

that that bright steel blade took a bite from the floor.

The handsome head tumbles onto the earth

and the king's men kick it as it clatters past.

Blood gutters brightly against his green gown,

yet the man doesn't shudder or stagger or sink

but trudges towards them on those tree-trunk legs

and rummages around, reaches at their feet

and cops hold of his head and hoists it high,

and strides to his steed, snatches the bridle,

steps into the stirrup and swings into the saddle

still gripping his head by a handful of hair.

Then he settles himself in his seat with the ease

of a man unmarked, never mind being minus

his head!

And when he wheeled about

his bloody neck still bled.

His point was proved. The court

was deadened now with dread.

For that scalp and skull now swung from his fist;

towards the top table he turned the face

and it opened its eyelids, stared straight ahead

and spoke this speech, which you'll hear for yourselves:

'Sir Gawain, be wise enough to keep your word

and faithfully follow me until I'm found

as you vowed in this hall within hearing of these horsemen.

You're charged with getting to the green chapel,

to reap what you've sown. You'll rightfully receive

the justice you are due just as January dawns.

Men know my name as the green chapel knight

and even a fool couldn't fail to find me.

So come, or be called a coward for ever.'

With a tug of the reins he twisted around

and, head still in hand, galloped out of the hall,

so the hooves brought fire from the flame in the flint.

· Simon Armitage's Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is published by Faber, price £12.99.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2006/dec/16/poetry.simonarmitage