Still here...

Two weeks since posting... where does the time go? Not into the new book, unfortunately, but I'm planning on getting back to it soon now the holiday distractions are over.

In the meantime, the Colorado Welsh Society is celebrating St. Dwynwyn's Day this coming Saturday. Also, on February 11, I'll be doing a book reading and signing at Spiritwise on South Broadway. Stand by for more details...

-GRG

Friday...

Yesterday I was playing with books and my camera. LibraryThing is running a competition for shots of book piles in different languages, and I did a Welsh one:



Today I've been writing... a little more progress at last. And tomorrow is CWS St. Dwynwyn's celebration - more about that later.

-GRG

back from Wales...

...and I actually got some work done on #4 during the hours on the plane. Continental now has power outlets under the seats, which is brilliant - no battery worries! I added a page to the current chapter, changed its title, and now feel I'm back on track. If only I didn't have to go back to the Day Job tomorrow... oh well.

The first week in Wales I spent in Caerdydd, on a Welsh language course. Tutor was good, and I feel I made real progress (I'm in the nearly-fluent level). We finished up the week at the National Eisteddfod, where I bought - surprise! - a few books. The second week I wandered around, partly in England (Gloucestershire) and partly in Wales (Black Mountains), researching sites for #5. This was out of order, but since I had the opportunity to take the language course in Wales with a group I usually join every other year in North America, I couldn't resist. However, I'm glad to get back to work on the Irish book. I've changed the trilogy name slightly, from Gwernin's Quest to Gwernin's Quests, as I think this middle trilogy is not so closely linked as one quest would imply.

Pictures later.

(edited to add: one of the places I stayed... and another)
-GRG

Follow-up

Cold today, windy, cloudy this morning with a little sunshine now. I'm glad I spent last weekend mostly doing yard work while the weather was good. Today's for reading, thinking, a little light housekeeping.

The St. Dwynwyn's event went well, and we all had fun - llawer o hwyl, yn Gymraeg. Harping, singing, storytelling, dancing, poetry, and a mummers' play to finish things off. My "three goats" story seemed to go over well. The third word I used, instead of "pont" = "bridge", was "bwyta" -- "eat". Seeing that the goats want more grass to eat, and the giant wants to eat the goats, it seemed more central (grin). It got a good response, too.

Back to reading and thinking now.

-GRG

St. Dwynwyn's Day

The Colorado Welsh Society is celebrating St. Dwynwyn's Day tonight, and I'm telling a story. This sounds like a normal thing for me to do, but there's a catch. I'm planning to tell a story in Welsh, to a (mostly) non-Welsh-speaking audience.

It isn't as crazy as it sounds. The story is one that should be familiar to everyone - the children's tale of the three goats, the bridge, and the giant. I'm planning to teach the audience three words before I start - "gafr", goat; "cawr", giant; and "pont", bridge. And I'll include interjections in English, like running footnotes. I did something like this at the Elizabeth Celtic Fair last summer, which is how I got asked to do it tonight. We'll see how it goes.

On the writing front, things are more or less stalled. This is partly due to some mundane issues I'm dealing with, and partly because I needed to think about just what story I'm telling here. Some of the subplots were showing signs of taking over, which is not good. I also thought about changing the title, but... well, it depends. Anyway, thinking, background reading, but no writing since the last post. It will come when it's ready.

-GRG

Dydd Gwener / Friday

Dydd Gwener, diolch i'r Duwiau. Dim ond wythnos o bedwar dyddiau i fi, ond yn digon hir beth bynnag. Roedd y penwythnos diwethaf yn rhy brysur - digwyddiadau SCA Dydd Sadwrn a Dydd Sul, a dim ond Dydd Llun i ysgrifennu. Mwy o amser y penwythnos hon, gobeithio. Dw i wedi dechrau yr ail bennod Mab y Derwydd.

Fel ddweudes i'n gynnar, bydd y dosbarthiadau Cymraeg yn dechrau y chweched Mis Hydref. Byddwn i'n athro unwaith eto. Dw i ddim yn siwr faint o fyfyriwr bydd gynnon ni. Welen ni'n fuan. Yn y cyfamser, bydd y Cymdeithas Cymreig Colorado yn cynnal noswaith am Owain Glyndwr Nos Sadwrn y 3dd Hydref, a byddwn i yno gan copiau fy llyfrau. Mae mwy o wybodaeth yma.

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Friday, thank the Gods. Only a four day week for me, but long enough anyway. Last weekend was too busy - SCA events Saturday and Sunday, and only Monday for writing. More time this weekend, hopefully. I've started the second chapter of The Druid's Son.

As I said earlier, Welsh classes will start on the 6th of October. I'll be a teacher again. I'm not sure how many students we'll have. We'll see soon. In the meantime, the Colorado Welsh Society will be holding an evening about Owain Glyndwr on Saturday the 3rd of October, and I'll be there with copies of my books. There's more information here.

-GRG

Welsh language classes in Denver

The Colorado Welsh Society's Welsh language classes will be starting again soon - see the class blog for more details. Cymru am byth!

Eira newydd / Fresh snow

Gawson ni tipyn o eira neithiwr - bron a ddwy modfedd a hanner - a mae popeth yn wyn y bore 'ma. Doedd dim olion yn yr ardd pan es i allan yn cyntaf, cyn i'r codiad yr haul, ond welais i olion y cadno yn y lon. Nawr mae lawer o olion traed colomen a gwiwer - a olion traed cath eto, wrth cwrs. Tynnais i sawl lluniau - bydda i'n postio un yn hwyrach... A dyma un.
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We got a little snow last night - about two and a half inches - and everything is white this morning. There were no tracks in the yard when I first came out before sunrise, but I saw fox tracks in the alley. Now there are lots of pigeon and squirrel tracks - and cat tracks too, of course. I took some pictures - I'll post one later... and here's one.

-GRG

Yn araf / Slowly...

Dw i wedi gorffen pennod arall ddoe - dim ond pedair ar ol i ysgrifennu nawr.

Neithiwr mi es i'r Gwyl Dwynwen ein cymdeithias cymrieg leol. Roedd fel Noson Lawen, a mi ges i lawer o hwyl. Siaredais i stori wrth pawb, stori Tristfardd, bod yn fy llyfrau. Roedd lawer o ganu a dawnsio hefyd - noson da iawn.

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I finished another chapter yesterday - only four more to write now.

Last night I went to our local Welsh Society's Dwynwen's Festival. It was like a Noson Lawn, and I had a lot of fun. I told a story to everyone, the story of Tristfardd, which is in my books. There was lots of singing and dancing, too - a good evening.

-GRG

Welsh in the workplace

An interesting article about the legal rights of the Welsh to use Welsh in the workplace.

More about Dafydd ap Gwilym

This past weekend I gave a presentation on Dafydd ap Gwilym for a group, and thought I would put up a list of selected references here.

Dafydd ap Gwilym: Poems edited and translated by Rachel Bromwich. This is so far as I know the only bilingual edition which exists, with Welsh/English facing pages of the poems and Bromwich's translations. Its annoying features are that it does not include the full cannon, and the poems included are grouped by topics, making it (for me) harder to find a specific poem.

Dafydd ap Gwilym: his poems by Gwyn Thomas. A relatively brief introduction followed by annotated English translations of the complete poems in the order followed by Parry's Welsh edition. No Welsh except as examples in the introduction. Amazon lists this as not yet available; their link appears to be a reprinting of the 2001 edition I have.

Gwaith Dafydd Ap Gwilym edited by Thomas Parry. This is the standard Welsh edition (no English).

Aspects of the Poetry of Dafydd ap Gwilym: Collected Papers by Rachel Bromwich. A collection of articles by Bromwich on Dafydd and his poetry.

These are the books I would recommend to someone seriously interested in Dafydd's work. In addition there a number of other translations of selected poems, either by themselves or in anthologies. If there's interest I could list these in another post.

-GRG

Adolygiad newydd / a new review

Mi gafodd Storyteller newydd ei adolygu ar y gwefa Powell’s ddoe. Roedd o’n adolygiad arddercog, yn dda ei ysgrifennu ac yn mewnweledol. Mae yr adolygwr, Carrie Uffindell, yn codi y pwynt bod y taith Gwernin yn yr hanner cyntaf Storyteller yn debeg â’r taith Gerallt Gymro yn yr ddeuddefed ganrif. Dyma’n wir, ond dweud y gwir, roeddwn i wedi angofio am Gerallt: mae y taith Gwernin tebeg â’r taith bues i newydd gwneud cyn i fi ysgryfennu i’r cwedlau cyntaf Gwernin. Efallai mae yn glocwell y ffordd arferol mynd o gympas Gymru!

Y wythnos diwedda dw i wedi bod yn darllen am Gymro arall enwog – Dafydd ap Gwilym. Roedd Dafydd yn fardd Cymreig enwogaf y bedwaredd ganrif ar ddeg – wedi Taliesin ac Aneirin, y bardd enwogaf yr hanes Gymru. Roedd o’n meistr dros ben o’r ffurf barddonol sy’n gael ei alw e’r cywydd. Nid fyddai e’n amhosibl ei gyfiathu, byddai e efaillai mor enwog â Chaucer, pwy buodd yn byw yn yr un canrif. Dw i wedi bod yn darllen am Dafydd oherwydd bydda i'n rhoi darleth amdano fo penwythnos nesaf – ond mae hon yn chwedl am ddiwrnod arall.
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Storyteller got a new review on Powell’s website yesterday. It was an excellent review, well written and insightful. The reviewer, Carrie Uffindell, raises the point that Gwernin’s journey in the first half of Storyteller is similar to that of Gerald of Wales in the 12th century. This is true, but to tell the truth I had forgotten about Gerald: Gwernin’s journey is like the journey I had just made before writing the first of the Gwernin stories. Maybe clockwise is the normal way to go around Wales!

For the last week I have been reading about another famous Welshman – Dafydd ap Gwilym. Dafydd was the most famous Welsh poet of the 14th century – after Taliesin and Aneirin, the most famous poet in Welsh history. He was the greatest master of the form of poetry called the cywydd. If it weren’t impossible to translate him, he would possibly be as famous as Chaucer, who lived in the same century. I have been reading about Dafydd because I will be giving a talk about him next weekend – but that is a story for another day.

-GRG

Bod yn ddau lle ar unwaith / Being in two places at once

Y wythnos hon mi gwrddodd yr dosbarthiadau canolradd a uwchraddol (lefel 2 a lefel 3) fel un, oherwydd nid allodd yr athro lefel 2, Elis Owens, mynychu. Yn hytrach na fy mhynd o’r un grwp i’r llall, mi benderfynais i gyfuno y ddau mewn “dosbarth i gyd”. Mi ddarparais i daflen a roedd yn cynnwys sawl testun ymddiddanol a ffurfiau brawddegol, ac mi es i trwyddo yn gyntaf gan yr canolraddau. Wedyn, mi dreuliais i ryw prid gan y grwp i gyd, yn holi cwestiynau i pobl yng Nhgymraeg, ac yn cael atebion yn yr un iaith – pethau siml fel "beth gwneuthoch chi dros y penwythnos?" ac "sut roedd y tywydd ddoe?" Wedi roedd pawb yn barod, ymrannais i’r dosbarth mewn dau grwp ac gadawais i iddyn nhw mynd ati gan gael sqyrsiau gan eu gilydd, tra symudais i’n ôl ac i ffordd yn gwrando ac ryw pryd yn cydroddi.

Roedd pawb bod yn debyg i gael hwyl, a dw i’n meddwl bod ceisio helpu ei gilydd yn siared a deall torrodd i lawr yn tipyn bach y nervusrwydd sy’n ymosod pawb sy’n canolpwnt y sylw pan mae’r athro yn holi cwestiwn iddyn nhw. Awgrymodd un o’r canolraddau wedi hyn a ddylwn i trefnu y grypiau tro nesaf fel bod y pobl yn leai brofiadol sy’n cael holi y cwestiyniau, a’r lleill sy’n rhaid iddyn nhw deall ac ateb – syniad da, dw i’n meddwl!
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This week the intermediate and advanced classes (level 2 and level 3) met as one, since the level 2 teacher, Elis Owens, wasn't able to attend. Rather than my bouncing back and forth between the two groups, I decided to combine them in a "dosbarth i gyd" - a class of the whole. I provided a handout containing some conversational topics and sentence templates, and went through it first with the intermediates. Then I spent some time with the whole group, asking questions to individuals in Welsh and getting answers in the same language - simple things like "what did you do over the weekend?" and "how was the weather yesterday?" After everyone was warmed up, I split the class into two groups (each containing intermediates and beginners) and let them get on with having Welsh conversations among themselves, while I moved back and forth monitoring and sometimes contributing.

Everyone seemed to have a good time, and I think trying to help each other speak and understand broke down somewhat the nervousness that attacks anyone who's the focus of attention when the teacher asks them a question. One of the intermediates suggested afterwards that I set the groups up next time so it's the less experienced people who get to ask the questions, and the others who have to understand what they've heard and answer -- a good idea, I think!

-GRG

Penwythnos cynnes olaf? / Last warm weekend?

Mae'r hydref yn llithro yn araf i ffordd. Roedd y penwythnos diwethaf yn cynnes ac yn hefryd, gan deil bron pob coeden wedi eu troi i felyn neu fflamgoch neu aur. Yn fuan byddan nhw yn hedfan ar y gwynt, ac yn syrthio i'r ddaear. Dyn ni'n cael rhew bron bob nos nawr, a mae lawer planhigion yr haf wedi marw. Ddoe mi torres i i lawr y planhigion tomatoes olaf, a roedd yn barod wedi marw. Mae gen i o hyd lawer o domatoes coch a gwyrdd yn y garaj a squash yn y gegin, a mae'r wynwyn gwyrdd yn dal i dyfu yn yr ardd llysiau, ond mae popeth arall wedi gorffen. Mor gyflam mae'r tymor wedi mynd!

Ddim ysgrifenu dros y penwythnos - roedden ni Dydd Sadwrn yn digwyddiad SCA, ac ddoe roeddwn i'n gweithio yn yr ardd. Gobeithio bydd y penwythnos nesaf yn wahanol!
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Autumn is slipping slowly away. Last weekend was warm and beautiful, with the leaves of almost all the trees having turned yellow or flame-red or gold. Soon they will be flying on the wind, and falling to the earth. We are getting frost almost every night now, and many of the summer plants have died. Yesterday I cut down the last tomatoe plants, which were already dead. I have still lots of red and green tomatoes in the garage and squash in the kitchen, and the green onions are still growing in the vegetable garden, but everything else is done. So quickly the season has gone!

No writing over the weekend - we were at an SCA event Saturday, and yesterday I was working in the garden. Hopefully next weekend will be different!

-GRG

Noswaith oer arall / another cold night

Roedd neithiwr yn noswaith oer arall. Y bore 'ma roedd rhew trwm ym mbobman - ar fyn nhryc, ar y glaswellt, a'r blodau. Roedd ia trwchus ar y bath adar am yr ail tro.
Pan cyrraeddes i gartref ddoe, roedd y planhigion tomatoes wedi marw. Bydd rhaid i mi eu tynnu nhw penwythnos nesaf. Roedd popeth yn y "cold-frame" a dan y blastig yn iawn.

Dw i wedi bod yn meddwl, fel gwnaf i ambell waith, sut roedd yr hydref i pobl yn yr oesoedd canol. Buodd yr haf wedi mynd, gan ei frwythiau a'i tywedd braf, a buodd y gaeaf yn dod yn fuan - amser tywyll, oer, a chaled. Roedd yr hydref yr cyfle olaf dathlu - pen draw yr hanner golau y flwyddyn.

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Last night was another cold night. This morning there was heavy frost everywhere - on my truck, on the grass, and on the flowers. There was thick ice on the birdbath for the second time. When I came home yesterday, the tomato plants were dead. I'll have to pull them up next weekend. Everything in the cold-frame and under the plastic was fine.

I have been thinking, as I do sometimes, how autumn was for people in the middle ages. Summer was gone, with its fruits and its fine weather, and winter was coming soon - a dark, cold and hard time. The autumn was the last opportunity to celebrate - the end of the light half of the year.

Penwythnos oer / a cold weekend

Roedd y tywydd yn oer yma Dydd Sadwrn a Dydd Sul - cymylau, man glaw, a gwynt bach cas o'r gogledd. Mi tynnais i'r tomatoes olaf - y rhan mwyaf ohonyn nhw yn dal yn wyrdd -a'r ciwcymers a'r basil, a rhoi amrhyw plantigion yn y "cold-frame". Y bore 'ma mae popeth yn yr ardd llysiau wedi rhewi. Mae gan dail y tomatoes cot ia clir a thrychus, yn edrych fel dwr - ond dwr sych a chaled. Efallai mae'r squash yn dal yn byw dan ei phabell blastig - wn i ddim. Mae'r haf wedi mynd yn wir.

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The weather was cold here Saturday and Sunday - clouds, drizzle, and a nasty little wind from the north. I picked the last tomatoes - the greater part of them still green - and the cucumbers and the basil, and put some plants in the cold-frame. This morning everything in the vegetable garden is frozen. The tomato leaves have a thick clear coat of ice, looking like water - but dry hard water. Maybe the squash is still alive under its plastic tent - I don't know. Summer has gone indeed.

-GRG

Summer's Gone / Mae'r Haf Wedi Mynd

Mae'r haf wedi mynd. Y bore 'ma pan mi ddes i allan o'r ty, welais i bod ni wedi cael rhew trwm dros nos. Roeddwn i wedi gorcuddio y tomatoes olaf a'r squash, ond wn i ddim os ydyn nhw wedi goroesi. Does dim ots, yn wir, oherwydd bydd mwy o rew yn cyrraedd Dydd Sadwrn - ac efallai, tipyn o eira! Mae'r hydref yma nawr!

(Dim ysgrifenu dros y Sul, dim ond garddio. Gobeithio, mi fydda' i'n gwneud mwy y penwythnos nesa'.)
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Summer's gone. This morning when I came out of the house, I saw we'd had a heavy frost overnight. I had covered the last tomatoes and the squash, but I don't know if they have survived. It doesn't matter, really, because more frost will arrive Saturday - and possibly a bit of snow! Autumn is here now!

(No writing this weekend, only gardening. Hopefully I'll get more done next weekend.)

-GRG

Busy week

Lots of this and that going on. Last weekend I finished another chapter of The Ash Spear, which makes 16 so far of an estimated 30 - figures on the sidebar as usual. Also Welsh classes started this week, and as a result I've been busy setting up a mailing list group and a blog for the class.

The garden is winding down, and I think we will probably have frost Sunday or Monday night - time to pick the rest of the tomatoes, protect the squash, and start moving semi-hardly plants into the cold frame for the winter. Then comes the garden clean-up... In and around this activity I hope to be writing more this weekend - the story is moving into a new phase, which should be interesting.

But that's another post.

-GRG

Nol i'r Cymraeg - Back to Welsh!

Mae'r hydref yma, a mae'r dosbarthiadau Cymraeg yn ail-dechrau yn fuan. Mae'r Colorado Welsh Society (CWS) yn eu cynnig nhw bob blwydden. Eleni bydd tri lefel gyda ni - dechreuwyr, canolradd, ac uwchraddol. Bydd y dosbarthiadau yn dechrau am yr 30ed Medi.

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Autumn is here, and Welsh classes are starting again soon. The Colorado Welsh Society (CWS) holds them every year. This year we will have three levels - beginners, intermediate, and advanced. The classes will start on September 30.

Cadair Eisteddfod Cymdeithas Madog

As I mentioned in May, Cwrs Cymraeg Cymdeithas Madog has an eisteddfod - a literary competition in Welsh - at the end of the course each year. The winner of the upper division competition wins the Chair - Cadair Eisteddfod Cymdeithas Madog. It's a traveling prize - he or she has to give it back in time for next year's course - but one much desired. The chair itself stands 14.5 inches tall. Its design is based on that of the chair given at the National Eisteddfod of Wales in 1988, and it was made by the same craftsman, using a piece of oak from a house over 600 years old. This year I won it for the first time, using the bardic name "Hebog". My entry is shown below, followed by a fairly literal translation. There are a few errors in the Welsh, but I have let them stand for now. The round thing in front of the chair in the picture is an engraved piece of slate from North Wales, which carries the name of the course and the year; and this I get to keep.


PONTYDD

“A fo ben, bid bont.” Gwerthfawr
ydyw’r geiriau’r hen gawr.
Nid i ŵr gwan bach ydyw
gario llwyth sydd bod yn lyw.
Dros ei gorff ei hun cerddant
a’i waed goch torriff eu chwant.

Brenin uchel un dydd daeth
o Iwerddon, gan arfaeth
trwy briodi morwyn lan
codi bont dros môr llydan.
Bendigeidfran gan ei chwaer
gwnaeth y bont – bu’n bensaer.
Branwen brydferth byddai’n gref,
gan ei gŵr elai adref.
Ond yr oedd hi’n aberth prid:
Yn eu pont yr oedd gwendid.
Bron â collwyd holl eu hedd:
daeth Efnissien i’r gwledd.

Torrodd sylfaen wan eu gwaith,
ond nid oeddynt heb obaith.
Am atgeweirio’r bont sâl
talodd Brân iddo iawndal.
Aeth heb bryder dros y don
y pâr priod i Iwerddon.
Ond parhâi, wedi’r hen ddig,
craciau dwfn anweledig.

A pwy oedd dechreuodd sôn
am y tal yr ebolion?
A pwy cymhellodd y gred
rhaid gosbi gwraig ddiniwed?
Ef yr oedd gan gelwydd hon
torrodd teyrnas Iwerddon.
Ond ys bai i’r brenin ffôl
am ei farn gamsyniol.

Bob dydd cosbodd cigydd cas
Branwen gan bonclust diflas.
Dagrau hallt ar ei boch fain
syrthient yn boeth heb udain.
Cloesid pyrth yr wlad i gyd;
bu dim dianc o’i thristlyd.
Dan y dŵr heb lef heb don
cwympasai’r bont yn ddison.

Wedi amser, neges daeth
i Brân am ei chaethwasaeth.
I’r orllewin hirbell las
edrychodd, a galanas
bu’n ei feddwl – llifoedd gwaed
talai am boen ei gydwaed.
Nid oedd nawr bont – croesi’r môr,
bai’n rhaid iddo bod blaenor,
a cherdded trwy’r dyfnder mawr
yn tynnu’i longau llwythfawr.

Gwelodd Gwyddelod ei ben
gan ddial ar ei dalcen.
Rhedodd pob un gan y gair
i’w brenin ar ei gadair.
Dweudodd wrthynt torri i lawr
pont dros afon llifeirfawr.
Byddent yn ddiogel iawn
er eu bod yn anghyfiawn.

A sut dweud yr hanes ddu
o Iwerddon a’i tyngu?
Pan daeth nifer Brân i’r min
bu dim obaith i’w gwerin.
Tân, cleddef, angau mawr,
dinistriad coch enfawr.
Dim ond saith y gwŷr ddaeth n’ôl
o’u brwydro gwaedlifol.

Cychwynnodd Iwerddon trist
ar ei llwybr hen amdrist:
pump o wraig i lenwi gwlad;
oesoedd o frawdladdiad.
Gwelodd Branwen beth y bo;
y môr hwn nad all pontio.
Torrodd chalon cryf yn dwy;
ddaeth ei ysbryd yn ddrudwy.

Gan waed byw coch fel offrwm
gwyd pont, nid maen ar faen trwm.
“A fo ben, bid bont,” meddai
yr hen gawr; yr oedd heb fai.
Aeth Brân yn bont yn lawen:
daeth adref dim ond ei ben.

- "Hebog"

BRIDGES

“He who would lead, let him be a bridge.” Valuable
are the words of the old giant.
Not for a small weak man it is
to carry the burden of being a leader.
Over his own body they will walk
and his red blood will slake their thirst.

A high king one day came
from Ireland, intending
through marrying a pure maiden
to build a bridge over a wide sea.
Brân the Blessed with his sister
made the bridge – he was chief builder.
Beautiful Branwen would be strong,
with her husband she would go home.
But she was a costly sacrifice:
in their bridge there was a weakness.
Almost lost was all their peace:
Efnissien came to the feast.

He broke the weak foundation of their work,
but they were not without hope.
To repair the sick bridge
Brân paid reparation.
Without worries, over the wave
the married pair went to Ireland.
But there persisted, because of that discord,
deep unseen cracks [in the bridge].

Who was it began the rumor
about the payment of the colts?
Who was it compelled the belief
that it was necessary to punish an innocent woman?
He it was who with this lie
broke the realm of Ireland.
But there is blame for the foolish king
because of his mistaken judgment.

Every day a hateful butcher punished
Branwen with a nasty ear-box.
Salt tears on her thin cheek
fell warmly without wailing.
All the ports of the land were closed;
there was no escape from her sorrow.
Under the water, without cry, without wave,
the bridge collapsed soundlessly.

After a time, a message came
to Brân about her slavery.
To the far blue west
he looked, and a blood price
was in his thinking – floods of blood
would pay for his blood relative’s pain.
There was no bridge now – to cross the sea
he would have to be the first-goer,
and walk through the great depths
pulling his heavy-laden boats.

The Irish saw his head
with vengeance on his brow.
Everyone ran with the word
to their king on his chair.
He told them to break down
the bridge over the great-flowing river.
They would be very safe
although they were in bad faith.

How to tell the dark tale
of Ireland and her fate?
When Brân’s army came to the brink
there was no hope for common folk.
Fire, sword, great death,
a huge red disaster.
Only seven men came back
from their blood-flowing battling.

Sad Ireland set out
on her ancient woeful journey:
five women to fill a land;
ages of brother-killing.
Branwen saw what would be;
this sea she could not bridge.
Her strong heart broke in two,
her spirit became a starling.

With living red blood as an offering
a bridge is raised, not stone on heavy stone.
“He who would be head, let him be a bridge,” said
the old giant; he was blameless.
Brân became a bridge gladly;
Only his head came home.

-GRG