“Wulf and Eadwacer” (?

seventh-tenth century) (anonymous)

translated by Paul Muldoon (1951-)

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.
5 Fæst is þæt eglond, fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige;
willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.
Ungelice is us.
Wulfes ic mines widlastum wenum dogode;
10 þonne hit wæs renig weder ond 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,
15 murnende mod, nales meteliste.
Gehyrest þu, Eadwacer? Uncerne earne hwelp
bireð wulf to wuda.
þæt mon eaþe tosliteð þætte næfre gesomnad wæs,
uncer giedd geador.

My tribe would welcome him with open arms

were he to show up with a war party or otherwise pose a threat.
How differently it goes for us…
Wulf on one island and myself on another,
5 an island made safe by the swamp thrown up about it,
an island full of hard men
who would welcome him with open arms…
How very differently it goes for us…
It was after my far-flung Wulf I was sighing
10 as the rain came down and my tears flowed
when a hard man took me under his wing
and I was filled with glee and gloom in equal measure…
Wulf—Wulf—it was my hunger for you
and your all-too-seldom visits
15 rather than any lack of food made me ill.
Be mindful, Eadwacer, be mindful of our cub
carried off by a Wulf into the woods,
of how soon may be cut short what’s scarcely been composed—
the song of us two together.