“Oft him anhaga are gebideð, metudes miltse, þeah þe he modcearig geond lagulade longe sceolde hreran mid hondum hrimcealde sæ wadan wræclastas. - Often a solitary man finds mercy for himself, the Lord’s compassion, though he, heart-sorrowing, through the flood-path long must stir by hand the frost-cold sea, wade the ways of exile.”
—
The Wanderer, 1a-5a (via terpsikeraunos)
Some Old English poetry. Allegedly. But the translation speaks to me.















