Often I must war against the wave and fight against the wind. I strive against them together when, shrouded by the sea, I go to seek the earth. My homeland is strange to me. If I become still, I am mighty in the conflict. If I do not succeed in that, because they are stronger than me, at once with rending they will put me to flight. They want to carry off what I must keep safe. I defeat them in that, if my tail endures and the stones are able to hold fast against me in my strength. Ask what is my name.

Oft ic sceal wiþ wæge winnan ond wiþ winde feohtan,
somod wið þam sæcce, þonne ic secan gewite
eorþan yþum þeaht; me biþ se eþel fremde.
Ic beom trong þæs gewinnes, gif ic stille weorþe;
gif me þæs tosæleð, hi beoð swiþran þonne ic,
ond mec slitende sona flymað,
willað oþfergan þæt ic riþian sceal.
Ic him þæt forstonde, gif min steort þolað
ond mec stiþne wiþ stanas moton
fæste gehabban. Frige hwæt ic hatte.