| |
| |
|
| |
As though, |
| |
My
friends, |
| |
The
sport begun |
| Ungelic
is us |
|
| |
Violence
|
| |
Capture,
|
| |
My
love undone |
| Ungelic
is us min Wulf |
|
| |
|
| |
We
are torn apart, separated-- |
| |
Islands
barricaded by fern |
| |
|
| |
Slaughter
|
| |
Awaits
|
| |
You,
sacred isle |
| |
|
| Ungelic
is us |
|
| |
Grievance,
|
| |
Longing,
|
| |
Over
many a mile |
| Ungelic
is us min Wulf |
|
| |
|
| |
Then
the rain drenched my heart, poor wretch-- |
| |
My
thoughts on you O Wulf, my Wulf! |
| |
|
| |
His
arms |
| |
Resting
on my shoulder |
| Ungelic
is us |
|
| |
Battle
|
| |
Brave
and |
| |
My
comforter |
| Ungelic
is us min Wulf |
|
| |
|
| |
My
pain was eased, yet redoubled-- |
| |
Do
you hear my call, Edwacer? |
| |
|
| |
Our
wretched |
| |
Child,
borne |
| |
by
wolf to woods |
| Ungelic
is us |
|
| |
Man
may |
| |
Tear
our |
| |
Unjoinèd songs |
| |
Yes
my Wulf-- |
| |
Ungelic is us. |
| |
©
Ben Robson 2000 |
|
|
