Curse that child-murderer
For killing my only son, Grendel!
There I found my spiritless son,
Lying limply in a pool of black blood
With one arm less than when he left me,
And gazing back at me with ghostly eyes.
Slowly, I lifted his heavy body
Into my arms to cradle,
And softly kiss his chapped and bitten lips.
The thought of that heartless human
Makes my blood boil,
Blood vessels burst in my eyes,
My head erupts with rage,
And my stomach knots and tightens.
Suddenly, everything I see turns fiery red!
I turned around to see
The thick, deep, and murky waters of my swamp,
And it looks like a pool of blood.
I bathe myself in it,
And my stomach begins to grumble and growl.
I'm as hungry as I'll ever be.
I will twist and tear off from that limb-taker,
Limb from limb,
And watch him suffer
Like the weak mortal he is.
Until I reclaim my son's arm,
Stain the walls and floors of Heorot with blood,
And tear that child-murderer into pieces,
My hunger will be satisfied.