Ungelic is Us  |  Music by Edmund Hunt


All images © David Booker 2014  |  Music © Edmund Hunt 2014


Sometime during the summer of 2013 I approached the English composer, Edmund Hunt, and asked him if he’d consider providing a piece of music to accompany some of my images.

After familiarising himself with my photography, he obliged and in early January 2014 sent me a short composition entitled ‘Ungelic is Us’ (a line from the Old English poem Wulf and Eadwacer, meaning ‘it is different for us’).  This video is the resulting collaboration.

Edmund’s work has been played in the UK and abroad by ensembles including Psappha, The Northern Sinfonia, Birmingham Conservatoire Symphony Orchestra, CHROMA, BCMG, ICARUS Vocal Ensemble, The Curious Chamber Players and CoMA (Contemporary Music for All).  Much of Edmund’s music is inspired by the early mediaeval literature of northern Europe, and his PhD explores this area through the creation of vocal, instrumental and electronic works. Although he often uses early texts, his approach is innovative and contemporary.

Vocals are provided by Lucie Louvrier.  Mezzo-soprano Lucie trained in Paris (Sorbonne, Schola Cantorum) before moving to England to study at Birmingham Conservatoire, where she was awarded an MMus in Vocal Performance with Distinction by the Conservatoire. Lucie was also awarded the Advanced Performance Certificate by the Birmingham School of Acting.

Visit Edmund’s website HERE


Wulf and Eadwacer (translated)

It is to my people as if someone gave them a gift.

They want to kill him, if he comes with a troop.

It is different for us.

Wulf is on one island I on another.

That island, surrounded by fens, is secure.

There on the island are bloodthirsty men.

They want to kill him, if he comes with a troop.

It is different for us.

I thought of my Wulf with far-wandering hopes,

Whenever it was rainy weather, and I sat tearfully,

Whenever the warrior bold in battle encompassed me with his arms.

To me it was pleasure in that, it was also painful.

Wulf, my Wulf, my hopes for you have caused

My sickness, your infrequent visits,

A mourning spirit, not at all a lack of food.

Do you hear, Eadwacer?

A wolf is carryingour wretched whelp to the forest,

That one easily sunders which was never united:

Our song together.


Wulf and Eadwacer (Old English text)

Leodum is minum swylce him mon lac gife;

willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.

Ungelic is us.

Wulf is on iege, ic on oþerre.

Fæst is þæt eglond, fenne biworpen.

Sindon wælreowe weras þær on ige;

willað hy hine aþecgan, gif he on þreat cymeð.

Ungelice is us.

Wulfes ic mines widlastum wenum dogode;

þonne hit wæs renig weder ond ic reotugu sæt,

þonne mec se beaducafa bogum bilegde,

wæs me wyn to þon, wæs me hwæþre eac lað.

Wulf, min Wulf, wena me þine

seoce gedydon, þine seldcymas,

murnende mod, nales meteliste.

Gehyrest þu, Eadwacer? Uncerne earne hwelp

bireð Wulf to wuda.

þæt mon eaþe tosliteð þætte næfre gesomnad wæs,

uncer giedd geador.