“Wretched” (Wulf and Eadwacer)
Authorship unknown
Translated by Elaine Treharne

For my tribe it’s like being given a tribute.
They’ll want to consume him if he comes on that crowd.
It’s not like that for us.
Wulf’s on one island, I’m on the other.
Fast-bound is that island, surrounded by fen.
They are murderous men there on the island.
They’ll want to consume him if he comes on that crowd.
That’s unlikely for us.
I traced the wide travels of Wulf in my wonderings
when it was rainy weather, and I sat weeping.
Then he, battle-hardened, laid arms about me.
That was pleasure for me; still, there was pain for me too.
Wulf, my Wulf, my wonderings of you
made me sick—your seldom comings,
my mourning mind—not the missing of meals.
Can you hear, Eadwacer? Wulf will carry our wretched whelp to the woods.
That may easily be split apart what was never spliced, the riddle of us both together.

In Old English:

Leodum is minum     swylce him mon lac gife.
Willað hy hine aÞecgan     gif he on Þreat cymeð.
Ungelic is us.
Wulf is on iege,     Ic on oÞerre.
Fæst is Þæt eglond,     fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælreowe     weras Þær on ige.
Willað hy hine aÞecgan     gif he on Þreat cymeð.
Ungelic is us.
Wulfes Ic mines widlastum     wenum dogode
Þonne hit wæs renig weder,     one Ic reotugu sæt.
Þonne mec se beaducafa     bogum bilegde:
Wæs me wyn to Þon;    wæs me hwæÞre eac lað.
Wulf, min Wulf,    wena me Þine
seoce gedydon,    Þine seldcymas,
murnende mod,    nales meteliste.
Gehyrest Þu, Eadwacer?     Uncerne earmne hwelp bireð wulf to wuda.
Þæt mon eaÞe tosliteð     ðætte næfre gesomnad wæs, uncer giedd geador.