At times I resort,	beyond man's discerning,
Under surging billows to seek the bottom,
The ocean depths. Then the sea is shaken,
Convulsed with foam, and the whale-flood rages
5 In giant uproar. The ocean streams
Beat on the shore and batter the slopes
With rock and sand, with seaweed and wave.
As I struggle and strain in the ocean depths
I shake the land and the vast sea-bottom.
10 From my watery covering I cannot forth
Till he grant me freedom who guides my way
On every journey. O wise of wit,
Tell who can draw me from ocean depths
When the seas grow still and the waves are calm
15 Which formerly covered and cloaked me over.

Translated by Charles W. Kennedy (The Earliest English Poetry. London-New York 1943).