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Exeter Book (Exeter Cathedral Library MS 3501), the manuscript in which Wulf and Eadwacer is recorded
In this episode of Elixir, Helen is talking to Andrea about the Old English poem called ‘Wulf and Eadwacer’ which appears in the Exeter Book (c.1000)
Music by Tom Platts accompanies the second reading.
Text of the poem:
Wulf ond Eadwacer
Lēodum is mīnum swylce him mon lāc gife;
willað hȳ hine āþecgan gif hē on þrēat cymeð.
Ungelīc is ūs.
Wulf is on īege, ic on ōþerre.
Fæst is þæt ēglond, fenne biworpen.
Sindon wælrēowe weras þǣr on īge;
willað hȳ hine āþecgan gif hē on þrēat cymeð.
Ungelīce is ūs.
Wulfes ic mīnes wīdlāstum, wēnum hogode,
þonne hit wæs rēnig weder ond ic rēotugu sæt,
þonne mec se beaducāfa bōgum bilegde,
wæs mē wyn tō þon, wæs mē hwæþre ēac lāð.
Wulf, mīn Wulf! wēna mē þīne
sēoce gedydon, þīne seldcymas,
murnende mōd, nales metelīste.
Gehȳrest þū, Ēadwacer? Uncerne eargne hwelp
bireð wulf tō wuda.
Þæt mon ēaþe tōslīteð þætte nǣfre gesomnad wæs,
uncer giedd geador.
Translation of the poem:
Wulf and Eadwacer by Unknown
Trans. Roy M. Liuzza
It's as if someone should give a gift to my people—
they will kill him if he comes to the troop.
It is otherwise for us.
Wulf is on an island, I on another.
Fast is that island, surrounded by fen.
The men on the island are murderous and cruel;
they will kill him if he comes to the troop.
It is otherwise for us.
I felt far-wandering hopes for my Wulf,
as I sat weeping in the rainy weather,
when the bold warrior's arms embraced me—
it was sweet to me, yet I also despised it.
Wulf, my Wulf! My wanting you
has made me sick—your seldom coming,
my mourning heart, not lack of meat.
Do you hear, Eadwacer? A wolf bears away
our wretched cub to the woods.
One can easily split what was never united,
the song of the two of us.
Copyright Credit: Roy Liuzza, "Wulf and Eadwacer (Translation)" from Old English Poetry: An Anthology. Copyright © 2014 by Roy Liuzza. Reprinted by permission of Broadview Press.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/159110/wulf-and-eadwacer-636eaf9d0772d
Andreea’s Poem (inspired by “Wulf and Eadwacer”)
A flicker, a glance,
we hum an old verse,
your voice low,
mine in mourning,
swaying with the leaves,
yet bound by oak-root stillness.
The current is cold,
wild, untouched,
and like time, it carries us away,
wave after wave,
Wulf is on iege, ic on oþerre,
close, but never near.
“Don’t touch the water,
Don’t rock the boat,”,
your eyes whisper
We hover at the shore,
and let temptation
burn beneath our skins,
A silent ember,
refusing to die,
fearing to live.
Ungelic is us.
About the poem:
On Translating “Wulf ond Eadwacer”
Even within the poem itself, ambiguities abound.
BY M.L. MARTIN
YouTube: Wulf and Eadwacer - An enigmatic Anglo Saxon Poem - Old English Poetry
