---

The solitary one waits for grace,
For mercy divine,
For he of troubled thought must travel through the seaway,
Stir with his hands the frosty-cold sea and travel paths of exile.
Unhinged by the certainty of fate.

Thus spoke the Wayfarer, mindful of hardships,
Of cruel battles & beloved kinsmen fallen:

"...I bewail my cares alone, the dawn of each day.
They, who eager for glory who bind fast a sad thought in my breast;
Separated from homeland, far from noble kinsmen"

He who has experience,
Knows cruel sorrow,
As his companion,
No longer one with many,
One with few,
The path of an exile claims him,
His heart frozen,
No wealth on earth at all

Now all joy has departed.
Without his lord's counsel,
Sorrow and sleep together,
Bind the wretched solitary one.

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