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Song for Wulf
To my people he'd be like a gift, easy prey
if he dared to come armed, the man
they'd love to destroy.
So we live in our separate worlds,
Wulf on one island, I on another -
this fastness encircled by marsh and fen,
this island of blood-thirsting, battle-hard men
who'd love to destroy him if ever
he dared to come armed.
So we live in our separate worlds.
The rain continues to fall. In my thoughts
I am tracking his far-trailing footsteps,
waiting and keening, wound fast
in the circling warrior arms of another,
every thought bringing equal measures
of pleasure and pain.
Wulf, my own Wulf, I am weak
from thinking of you and your over-long absence,
the grief in my heart far greater
than any hunger for food.
Remember, Eadwacer, warrior: it's easy
to sever those ties never truly united.
Remember that Wulf has carried our unhappy wolf-cub
away with him into the woods - the song
he and I made together.