Welcome back to The Daily Poem, a podcast from Goldberry Studios. I'm Sean Johnson, and today is Wednesday, July 9th, 2025.

Today's poem is a contemporary translation of a medieval poem by an unknown author. It is a riddle from the 10th century Exeter book, which is largely a collection

of riddles written in Anglo-Saxon or Old English. Many of the Exeter book riddles intended to be

quite lengthy and involved. Some had body solutions. Some had solutions from normal everyday life, farming implements, fish, etc.,

and some had lofty or even sacred solutions.

The book itself did not contain the answers to the riddles, and so while some have been solved to a fair degree of certainty,

there are others that remain controversial

and that people continue to argue about the proper solution to them. Today's poem number 26

from the Exeter book and translated by Roy Lutza has a very strong consensus regarding the answer.

Nevertheless, I'll withhold it here and see if you can solve it on your own.

If you fail and get frustrated, the solution is just a short Google search away.

Here is Old English Riddle number 26.

Some strong enemy snatched my life, deprived me of strength and soaked me, drenched me in water,

dragged me away, set me in the sun, where I soon lost all the hair I had. The hard edge,

clean, ground blade of a knife cut me. Then fingers folded,

then the birds delight, with swift drops darting again and again over the dark brim,

swallowed wood dye, streamed across me and stopped again, left a dark path. Protecting boards

were wrapped around me, stretched with skin,

gleaming gold. They are glittered upon me the splendid work of smiths, fine woven wire.

Now the adornments and the red dye, and the precious settings widely proclaim the protector

of men, the fool cannot fault it. If the sons of men will make use

of me, they will be safer and more certain of victory, bolder in heart, happier in mind,

...