Wulf and Eadwacer

Wulf and Eadwacer ancient Anglo-Saxon poem loose translation by Michael R. Burch My clan's curs pursue him like crippled game; they'll rip him apart if he approaches their pack. It is otherwise with us. Wulf's on one island; we're on another. His island's a fortress, fastened by fens. (fastened=secured) Here, bloodthirsty curs howl for carnage. They'll rip him apart if he approaches their pack. It is otherwise with us. My heart pursued Wulf like a panting hound, but whenever it rained—how I wept!— the boldest cur grasped me in his paws: good feelings for him, but for me loathsome! Wulf, O, my Wulf, my ache for you has made me sick; your seldom-comings have left me famished, deprived of real meat. Have you heard, Eadwacer? Watchdog! A wolf has borne our wretched whelp to the woods! One can easily sever what never was one: our song together.