Huna blentyn yn fy mynwes
(Sleep, my child, upon my bosom)
Clyd a chynnes ydyw hon;
(It is snug and warm)
Breichiau mam sy'n dynn amdanat,
(Your mother's arms wrapped tightly around you)
Cariad mam sy dan fy mron;
('Tis a mother's love that lies in my breast)
Ni cha' dim amharu'th gyntun,
(Nothing shall disturb your slumber)
Ni wna undyn â thi gam;
(Nobody will do you harm)
Huna'n dawel, annwyl blentyn,
(Sleep in peace, dear child)
Huna'n fwyn ar fron dy fam.
(Gently sleep on your mother's breast)
--Suo Gan, Welsh Lullaby
Maybe she sang lullabies
Before the telephone rang
Tucking in the Snoopy sheets
Smiling with starving lies
(Check on me
Check on me too
But in your eyelid flutter
I smelled the stench of you)
A savior sips his beer
Down by the train
Dials drips of acid
And prefers you didn't hear
The world is light on heroes
In case you haven't seen
Let me mourn my angels
Where pathetic promises have been
6 comments:
"Let me mourn my angels." Great line.
It's amazing how powerful a mother's love is... even in it's absence.
That song is haunting in its promise. And the poem is the dark side of that lullaby moon.
That need lives on. Perhaps the most heroic thing to be done is to acknowledge that, and seek its tenderness and support in a trusted, loving place.
calling me ...the words..the music..to soothe my trmebling soul ..loved it
Nasra
The Welch language has always been poetic, and their countryside dark and mysterious.
Charles, my favorite too.
Aine, wise words.
Sarah, it's a hard transition, not living that dark side. But it's one that eventually clears the troubled sky.
Nasra, thank you for the words, my friend.
Barbara, I'd love to see that countryside some day.
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