A Nations Anthem

daffodils(I wrote this over a year ago when I first started and my ‘health’ got in the way before I published it. Not this time!!)

I thought it be nice to celebrate my patron saints day; St David. So by way of my Special Guest Post, I present to you the Welsh National Anthem. This was written and composed by a Welsh father and son duo, Evan and James James (yip, you read it right) back in 1856. It’s original name was Glan Rhondda.

Some of you will know this anthem from the many concerts and sporting events that it’s played at, for those of you who don’t have a listen over on YouTube. I have also included the very loose English Translation. Please don’t ask me what I mean by ‘very loose’ as I’m no Welsh Teacher and it would probable take a whole first year in school to explain.

Suffice to say, we’ve replaced the letters K, Q, V, X and Z and added two extra’s to make a 28 letter alphabet.

Enjoy!

Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau

Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi,

Fathers of the old country dearest to me,

Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, enwogion o fri;

A country of poets and singers, renowned celebrities;

Ei gwrol ryfelwyr, gwladgarwyr tra mad,

Her courageous warriors, patriotic people,

Dros ryddid collasant eu gwaed.

For freedom they lost their blood.


(Chorus)

Gwlad, gwlad, pleidiol wyf i’m gwlad.

Country, country, favourable to my country.

Tra môr yn fur i’r bur hoff bau,

Through sea is a wall of the best favorite,

O bydded i’r hen iaith barhau.

O may the old language continue.


Hen Gymru fynyddig, paradwys y bardd,

The ancient mountainous Wales, paradise of the poet,

Pob dyffryn, pob clogwyn, i’m golwg sydd hardd;

Every valley, every cliff, to my sight is beautiful;

Trwy deimlad gwladgarol, mor swynol yw si

Through a patriotic feeling, it is so charming

Ei nentydd, afonydd, i fi.

Its streams, rivers, for me.


(Chorus)


Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwlad tan ei droed,

If the enemy raiseth my country to his feet,

Mae hen iaith y Cymry mor fyw ag erioed,

The old language of the Welsh is as live as ever,

Ni luddiwyd yr awen gan erchyll law brad,

The dread was not dreadfully horrible,

Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad.

Not the berry of my country.

 

 

My Special Guest tonight is…

Robert Burns and A Red, Red Rose

A Scottish poet and lyricist Burns was born in 1759 in Alloway, Ayrshire and was known by many names, my favourite or which is Rabbie Burns, I love that. He wrote his poetry in his native Scots language as well as in English. A man of many talents it would seem.

He is thought of as a pioneer of the Romantic Movement. Even after his death he became a great source of inspiration around the world. Celebration of his life and work became almost a national charismatic cult and his influence has long been strong on Scottish literature.

This lovely poem I thought suited the time of year. Although Valentine’s Day has passed is this not the month when we do the dance of love (and I’m trying to cheer up (forced smile)).

So I hope you enjoy this lovely poem, which I found read better with my imaginary Scottish accent.

A Red, Red Rose

O my Luve is like a red, red rose

That’s newly sprung in June;

O my Luve is like the melody

That’s sweetly played in tune.

 

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass,

So deep in luve am I;

And I will luve thee still, my dear,

Till a’ the seas gang dry.

 

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,

And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;

I will love thee still, my dear,

While the sands o’ life shall run.

 

And fare thee weel, my only luve!

And fare thee weel awhile!

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand mile.

Hen Abertawe Da (Good Ole Swansea) – The Mush from the Hill

This one was first published on Free Verse Revolution as part of the February theme ‘Home’ and luckily before I got all grumpy 😂. I hope you enjoy.

FREE VERSE REVOLUTION

Old craggy rocks sit on sandy beaches

With dirt tracks trudged and shaped over time

Or steps of symmetrical concrete provide easy access

Leading up to hills and cliff tops of grass and wild flowers

Surrounding a city, famously named after a raiding Viking King

Or so legend says

There’s a football team, a rugby team

And a marching band with pressed uniforms

Tall hat’s and polished kazoo’s for every occasion

Marching through the streets, as proud as punch and some

Lead by a long silver, orb ended, stick for twirling and throwing

Mind your heads

And on a night of a full moon

When Lady Luna’s at her brightest

The bay reflects her cold light, an icy glow

Cast over a mill pond you could almost skate on

And the lighthouse, shining its beacon for far and wide    

Keep mariners safe

This is my city, my place of…

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