Poetry Tuesday: Nightfall

By 18th/19th century Welsh bard Gwallter Mechain.

Silence brought by the dark night; Eryri’s
Mountains veiled by mist:
The sun in the bed of brine,
The moon silvering the water.

;o)

Poetry Tuesday: Song of Blodeuwedd

Doesn’t take much to figure out a word is Welsh, does it? From the Mabinogion, anonymous eleventh century.

Not of father, nor of mother
Was my blood, was my body.
I was spellbound by Gwydion,
Prime enchanter of the Britons,
When he formed me from nine blossoms,
Nine buds of various kind:
From primrose of the mountain,
Broom, meadow-sweet and cockle,
Together intertwined,
From the bean in its shade bearing
A white spectral army
Of earth, of earthy kind,
From blossoms of the nettle,
Oak, thorn and bashful chestnut.
Nine powers of nine flowers,
Nine powers in me combined,
Nine buds of plant and tree.
Long and white are my fingers
As the ninth wave of the sea.

;o)