#WelshWriters
All my life I was face to face with her, at meal—times, by the fire, even in the ultimate intimacies
Scarcely a street, too few houses To merit the title; just a way bet… The one tavern and the one shop That leads nowhere and fails at th… Of the short hill, eaten away
The old man comes out on the hill and looks down to recall earlier d… in the valley. He sees the stream… the church stand, hears the litter… children’s voices. A chill in the…
Laid now on his smooth bed For the last time, watching dully Through heavy eyelids the day’s co… Widow the sky, what can he say Worthy of record, the books all op…
One night of tempest I arose and… Along the Menai shore on dreaming… The wind was strong, and savage sw… And the waves blustered on Caerna… But on the morrow, when I passed…
She is young. Have I the right Even to name her? Child, It is not love I offer Your quick limbs, your eyes; Only the barren homage
There are nights that are so still that I can hear the small owl call… far off and a fox barking miles away. It is then that I lie in the lean hours awake listening
The idiot goes round and around With his brother in a bumping car At the fair. The famous idiot Smile hangs over the car’s edge, Illuminating nothing. This is man…
Men who have hardly uncurled from their posture in the womb. Naked. Heads bowed, not in prayer, but in contemplation of the earth they came from,
Moments of great calm, Kneeling before an altar Of wood in a stone church In summer, waiting for the God To speak; the air a staircase
My father is dead. I who am look at him who is not, as once he went looking for me in the woman who was.
We live in our own world, A world that is too small For you to stoop and enter Even on hands and knees, The adult subterfuge.
Dear parents, I forgive you my life, Begotten in a drab town, The intention was good; Passing the street now,
So beautiful—God himself quailed at her approach: the long body cur… like the horizon. Why had he made her so? How would it be, she said, leaning towards him, if instead of
Too far for you to see The fluke and the foot-rot and the… Gnawing the skin from the small bo… The sheep are grazing at Bwlch-y-… Arranged romantically in the usual…