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Head of clay, and mouth all stony,

And his eyes like coals of fire,

Knobs of birch his ears resemble,

And his legs are forking willows.’

“While my song I thus was singing,

Sighing in my grievous trouble,

He, my husband, chanced to hear it,

At the wall as he was standing.

When I heard him then approaching,

At the storehouse gate when standing,

I was conscious of his coming,

For I recognized his footstep.

And his hair in wind was tossing,

And his hair was all disordered,

And his gums with rage were grinning,

And his eyes with fury staring,

In his hand a stick of cherry,

’Neath his arm a club he carried,

And he hurried to attack me,

And upon the head he struck me.

“When the evening came thereafter,

And there came the time for sleeping,

At his side a rod he carried,

Took from nail a whip of leather,

Not designed to flay another,

But alas, for me, unhappy.

“Then when I myself retired,

To my resting-place at evening,

By my husband’s side I stretched me,

By my side my husband rested,

When he seized me by the elbows,

With his wicked hands he grasped me.

And with willow rods he beat me

And the haft of bone of walrus.

“From his cold side then I raised me,

And I left the bed of coldness,

But behind me ran my husband,

From the door came wildly rushing.

In my hair his hands he twisted,

Grasping it in all his fury,