The Lost Lament: An Epistle to the Gods

Well, Tuesday's come around once again.  Seems like it does this every week doesn't it?  Ha.

But, with Tuesday comes the best day for poetry.  Head on over to D'Verse for some great poems and a place where you can share one of your own.  Open Link Night is upon us, and the doors open up at 3pm, but you can head over anytime, to read the many previous weeks & nights of shared work in addition to the many great articles written by the wonderful D'Verse Staff.

For this week I thought I'd try to get back into a Mythological state of mind.  I've always loved myth and at one time almost all of my poetry was steeped in Mythology to some degree.  Well, I happened to notice I had somehow moved away from that, completely by accident I must say, and this, despite the fact, I dip back into the ancient texts on almost a daily basis.

So, with that said, I thought I'd try and come up with something that mirrors, to some extent, the Celtic myths, namely the Mabinogion, which is a great collection of tales for anyone interested, well worth checking out.

In this particular piece I included some lines in Welsh translation, don't worry though the English is right alongside it.  But with any translation, for languages I'm not fluent in, I am at the mercy of the interpreting software.  In this case I happened to use Googles-which isn't really the best, but in any case you're never going to get an exact word for word translation, but the ideas carry over and that's the main point anyway.

Hope you all enjoy.

Y Galarnad Coll: Mae Epistol at y Duwiau

The Lost Lament: An Epistle to the Gods

Elegant chartreuse grayling’s fowl

O’er the ridge of mounded sorrow,

Alone as it never is

Sky rims an ambered haze

Above the land where plovers seed

Delicate as it ever ought to be

Macabre, dance till

All ghosts and demons be still

Let fair warning approach these clans

Allotting time, for martyrs to save kin

Mellow does the wind blush glow

Eeried chill caresses slow

Each the herniation’s unsettled growth,

Yet still, in such of times,

Even broken promises find paths home

Will the trials never end?

A fydd y treialon dlwedd erioed?

Will the danger never die?

A fydd byth yn marw perygl?

Open the mouth of the dragon—

Agored yw ceg y ddraig!

And with the spirits of the Celts near us, then

A chryda ysbrydion y Celtiaid wrth ymyl ni, yna

Let’s tear the fire from within

Gadewch I ni rwygo y tan allan o’r tu mewn

Sealed in blood,

Past the curtain of the father,

The shine’s waiting

Selio yn y gwaed, y llen y gorffennol dad, yn disgleirio aros

If but only

Ignorant to sermons we were not

Os ond dim ond, anwybodus I bregethau nad oeddem yn

If but only

Appreciative to myth we had chosen to live by

Os ond dim ond, werthfawrogol I chwedl ein bod wedi dewis byw