Wulf and Eadwacer

Is to my people as if one gave them an offering.
Will they feed him, if he should feel want?
It is not so with us.
Wulf is on an island, I on another;
Closely begirt is that island with bog;
Cruel men are there on the island;
Will they feed him, if he should feel want?
It is not so with us.
I waited for my Wulf with far-wandering yearnings,
When it was rainy weather and I sat weeping.
When the warlike man wound his arms about me,
It was pleasure to me, yet it was also pain.
Wulf, my Wulf, my yearnings for thee
Have made me sick, thy rare visits,
A woeful heart and not want of food.
Dost thou hear, Eadwacer? Our cowardly cub
Wulf shall bear off to the wood.
They can easily sunder that which was never joined together,
The song of us two together.