Wulf and Eadwacer
Translations from the Old English PoemSaskia GottsWulf
It is as if anyone might give a battle to my people;
They desire to take on violence where it may be given.
We are different from them.
Wulf is on an island, I on another.
This island is enclosed, besieged by mire;
The men on that island are barbarous, destruction itself.
They will kill him if he happens upon their force.
We are different from them.
I thought of my Wulf, with expectations of his footsteps
When it was rainy weather. I sat lamenting
As he, cruel and sharp, entrapped me in his vault.
Joy for me was you Wulf, my Wulf,
My misfortune persists alongside hopes of you.
Your seldom-coming causes my sickness,
My sorrowing heart not at all from starvation,
Do you hear me, my watchman?
Wulf bears our wretched cub into the forest!
Perhaps someone may tear asunder that which was never together,
Our song together.
Eadwacer
They would give my offering to the poets,
As though they are willing to receive it into the throng.
It is different, with us.
The outlawed one is on an island; I am with another.
The island is secure, surrounded by fen.
The men of that island are the slain.
They desire to take him too if he goes by his own violence.
It is different, after us.
My thoughts of Wulf rove far and wide. I sat weeping as it rained,
As he, struggling and brave, embraced me in his arms,
Which was joy itself to me, and yet painful
thoughts of you, Wulf, my Wulf,
Feeble thoughts, coming rarely,
Worry my mind, never lacking fuel.
Eadwacer, are you listening? Wulf is carrying the lifeless
aftermath of our love into a wild place.
One might easily tear apart that which was never united,
That story of us two.