Wulf and Eadwacer

I swear these people —

it’s like you handed them a present, 

and they chew him up anyways,

even if he came like gangbusters.

             Us? We’re not like that.

Wulf’s over there, I’m over here,

islands are locked, mashed up in marsh.

Dudes there will eat your face —

and they chew him up regardless,

even if he came like gangbusters.

             Us? We’re not like that.

I was dogged in my dreams

of the wolf’s wide wanderings.

When rains were the sky

and I ran raining too,

when the trial-tested tested me,

lathered up in his limbs —

Joy was mine then, a little pain too.

Wulf, O my Wulf! 

Your hopes in me have gone sick — 

your scarce ecstasies,

mournful mindings,

not your failing appetite.

Hear that, Eadwacer you dog?

Our whelp was wailing,

the wolf ferrying it to forest.

How easily it all comes apart,

what was hardly together —

love-songs woven as one.

Wulf and Eadwacer

Lēodum is mīnum   swylce him mon lāc gife —

willað hȳ hine aþecgan,    gif hē on þrēat cymeð.

               Ungelīc is ūs.     

Wulf is on īege,    ic on ōþerre.

Fæst is þæt ēglond,    fenne biworpen.

Sindon wæl-rēowe    weras þǣr on īge —

willað hȳ hine aþecgan,    if hē on þrēat cymeð.

               Ungelīc is ūs.     

Wulfes ic mīnes wīd-lastum   wēnum dogode —

þonne hit wæs rēnig weder    ond ic rēotugu sæt,

þonne mec se beadu-cāfa   bōgum bilegde,

wæs mē wyn tō þon,    wæs mē hwæþre ēac lāð.

Wulf, mīn Wulf,    wēna mē þīne

sēoce gedydon,   þīne seld-cymas,

murnende mōd,    nales meteliste.

Gehyrest þū, Ēadwacer?

Uncerne earne hwelp

bireð wulf tō wūda.     

þæt mon ēaþe tōslīteð   

þætte nǣfre gesomnad wæs,

uncer giedd geador.