The Wife's Lament
Translated by: Nicole Janice Wallace
Disclaimer: This is just an attempt of translation after one semester of studying Old English. I did the best I could.
1 I utter these words about myself, my very mournful experience. I must speak of what hardship I have had since I grew up, new or old, but never greater than now, always suffering the torment of my exile-journey.
6 First my lord went away from his people here, across the rolling waves. At dawn I grieve where my lord might be. Then I depart - a lordless exile - to seek a place for my woeful need. Through hidden thoughts, these men must begin to plot to divide us so that we live as far apart as possible, so horribly in this world. And I felt longing.
15 My harsh lord commanded me to stay here in this bitter place. I possessed few loved ones in this country -loyal friends- that is why my heart is mournful. Then I found common lucklessness, and melancholy among men. With joyful behavior we often promised that death alone - nothing else - would separate us. Now is has changed, as if it never were, our friendship. Far and near I must the feud of my dearly beloved.
27 I was ordered to dwell in this earth-cave under an oak tree in the forest. In this earthen-hall I am oppressed with intense longing. These glens are dark and gloomy, the hills are tall and steep and the bitter fortress-enclosure is overgrown with briars - dwelling bereft of joy. Here, very often my lord's departure has oppressed me. Friends on earth, the beloved living ones, lien in bed, while at dawn, I come out of this earth-cave to sit under the oak tree all summer's day long. There I must weep my exile, the hardships; therefore I can never rest my heart's anxiety, nor through all this life.
42 Should a young man ever be sad and bitter at heart, he must still exhibit joyful behavior, although he suffers perpetual sorrow. He may have all the world's joys or be outlawed far from his homeland so that my friend sits under a rocky-slope, covered in storm-frost, exhausted, and drenched in water. In a dreary-hall, that old friend of mine suffers much heart-ache. He remembers too often a more pleasant abode. Woe is the one who longs for a lover.