Wales is called the land of song probably because it’s language is liquid gold that spills off the tongue in musical cadences. For non-welsh speakers the sounds are hard to explain but ‘ff’ is prounounced ‘f’, ‘dd’ as ‘the’, ‘w’ as ‘ow’, ‘y’ as in ‘oo’ and ‘ch’ is hard as in loch not ouch
The Town Council in Brecon has just invested in a poetry trail and this one is by a friend of mine who also writes in English.
Mwylachen y Mynydd literally the Mountain Blackbird is the Welsh name for the Ring Ouzel.
A translation – for those who want it
Flash of black,
in silver torque
Here is one from his collection The Meaning of Flight
written in English
Twyn yr Hyddod
I’ve had enough of elegies
but must have you know
that mountain where I used to run
marking bounds at the edge of breath,
how its roads exotically wind
among the skirts of the hill,
its acres of snapped stone
hard turf and whin
ignore the long slopes’ fall
to where the pit no longer is.
His thrown ash has left no scent or mark.
The smell’s of nothing but bright air.
And for a sound
hear a skylark, who
forgetting she’s a cliché
always on the brink of falling, climbs
singing up through daylight
just far enough to break your heart.
I thought I’d like to share some of Chis’s poetry if you want to visit his site its