#WelshWriters
Laid now on his smooth bed For the last time, watching dully Through heavy eyelids the day’s co… Widow the sky, what can he say Worthy of record, the books all op…
Looking upon this tree with its qu… Of holding the earth, a leveret, i… Or marking the texture of its livi… A grey sea wrinkled by the winds o… I understand whence this man’s bod…
I have been all men known to histo… Wondering at the world and at time… I have seen evil, and the light bl… Innocent love under a spring sky. I have been Merlin wandering in t…
My garden is the wild Sea of the grass. Her garden Shelters between walls. The tide could break in; I should be sorry for this.
In Wales there are jewels To gather, but with the eye Only. A hill lights up Suddenly; a field trembles With colour and goes out
‘Poems from prison! About what?’ ‘Life and God.’ ‘God in prison? Friend, you trifle with me. His face, perhaps,
Nineteen years now Under the same roof Eating our bread, Using the same air: Sighing, if one sighs,
It was beautiful as God must be beautiful: glacial eyes that had looked on violence and come to terms with it; a body too huge
The salmon lying in the depths of… Secretly as a thought in a dark mi… Is not so old as the owl of Cwm C… Who tells her sorrow nightly on th… The ousel singing in the woods of…
The old man comes out on the hill and looks down to recall earlier d… in the valley. He sees the stream… the church stand, hears the litter… children’s voices. A chill in the…
When I was a child and the soft f… Quietly as snow on the bare bough… My father brought me trout from th… From whose chill lips the water so… Dull grew their eyes, the beautifu…
Who said to the trout, You shall die on Good Friday To be food for a man And his pretty lady? It was I, said God,
She is young. Have I the right Even to name her? Child, It is not love I offer Your quick limbs, your eyes; Only the barren homage
We’ve nothing vast to offer you, n… Except the waste of thought Forming from mind erosion; No canyons where the pterodactyl’s… Falls like a shadow.
Too far for you to see The fluke and the foot-rot and the… Gnawing the skin from the small bo… The sheep are grazing at Bwlch-y-… Arranged romantically in the usual…