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The autumn nights are drawing in, and this little riddle feels appropriately spooky and mysterious. No solution is given in the original manuscript, so suggestions welcome in the comments, as well as other translations from any Old English scholars in the house!
Anglo-Saxon
Translation
This air carries little creatures
over hillsides. They are very bright,
black, dark-coated. Rich with song,
they roam in flocks, cry loudly,
tread woody headlands, even the halls
of men. They name themselves.
(Some possible solutions here; more about the Exeter Book here.)
Anglo-Saxon
Ðeos lyft byreð lytle wihte
ofer beorghleoþa. Þa sind blace swiþe,
swearte salopade. Sanges rope
heapum ferað, hlude cirmað,
tredað bearonæssas, hwilum burgsalo
niþþa bearna. Nemnað hy sylfe.
Translation
This air carries little creatures
over hillsides. They are very bright,
black, dark-coated. Rich with song,
they roam in flocks, cry loudly,
tread woody headlands, even the halls
of men. They name themselves.
(Some possible solutions here; more about the Exeter Book here.)
