To my people it's as though he gave them a sacrifice: They will destroy him if he comes among them. It is otherwise with us. Wulf is on one island, I on another. A fastness is that island, rung round with fens. Fierce men are there on the island. They will destroy him if he comes among them. It is otherwise with us. I thought of my Wulf's far wanderings when it was rainy weather and I sat weeping when the war-chief caught me in his arms— it was joy then, yet it was also hateful. Wulf, my Wulf! Waiting for you has made me ill, your seldom coming, this sorrowing mood—not lack of meat. Do you hear, Eadwacer? Our poor whelp a wolf bears off to the wood. How easy for man to break what never was bound— our song together.
from The Women Poets in English, edited by Ann Stanford