I draw these words from my deep sadness,My sorrowful lot. I can say that, Since I grew up, I have not suffered Such hardships as now, old or new. I am tortured by the anguish of exile. First my lord forsook his familyFor the tossing waves; I fretted at dawnAs to where in the world my lord might be. In my sorrow I set out then, A friendless wanderer, to search for my man. But that man's kinsmen laid secret plansTo part us, so that we should liveMost wretchedly, far from each otherIn this wide world; I was seized with longings.

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