I loved her as a maiden; I will not trouble Erlend's detestable wife; better she should be a widow.
What a fascinating background to this poem. This bone and it's seething inscription are like these intricate clues as to what might
have possibly happened, the whole thing is very inspiring indeed. The imagination just flares. Questions float around, is it a human bone, if so, who's? The widow's or Erland's. Did this rival kill Erland? Trust me, I could go on with this....
This is just absolutely brilliant stuff.
The poem is good too. "...when I am dung, what bone shall speak for me?"