In the hollow where the white hazels grow,
Yn nyffryn lle mae’r colomen yn nythu’n isel,
A name was born from the breath of snow,
Enw hir sy’n dawnsio fel awel ddistaw.
It rolls like thunder from mountain to shore,
Yn taranu trwy’r cymoedd, o fôr i fôr.
Not just a word, but a legend spun,
Stori sy’n dechrau dan haul a lloer.
Llanfair speaks with a saint’s soft grace,
Ac mae Tysilio’n gwenu yn y lle distaw,
While whirlpools churn at a rapid pace,
Ger drobwll gwyllt sy’n siglo’r galon graw.
The church and the cave stand side by side,
Eglwys a thir yn rhannu’r un llais,
One for the living, one for the tide,
Un dros y cof, un dros y daith.
Say it once if your lungs are strong,
Ond paid ag ofni os mae'n cymryd hir,
The name’s not short, but the heart is long,
Mae cariad y lle yn para drwy'r dir.
A village of stories, a song without end,
Pentref sy’n canu tan nos yn y glaw,
A tangle of letters, a curve, a bend,
Yn torri’r tafod ond yn llenwi’r awyr law.
They laughed the first time they saw the sign,
Ond clywodd y gwynt ei seinio’n gain,
Too many letters, a puzzle made,
Fel carreg wedi’i gerfio’n wnaed.
But say it once, and the valley hears,
Mae’r enw’n dawnsio dros flynyddoedd hir.
It lives in voices, old and young,
A’r plant yn ei ganu gyda’u tafod llyg.
No need to cut it down to size,
Mae pob sill yn rhan o’r wyrth yn llais.
It tells of saints, and storms, and stone,
Ac enaid y wlad, o’r tir i’r don.
Not just a name, but something more —
Mae’n allwedd i hanes, a’r drws i’r drôr.
The tongue may twist, the lungs may burn,
Ond mae’r galon yn cofio, yn dal i dŵr.
When strangers fumble on foreign tongues,
Maent yn clymu geiriau fel crys wedi’u hangori,
They learn anew what music hums,
Pan glywedant y galon yn curo’n gari.
Old villagers grin with knowing eyes,
Yn cofleidio’r enw fel hen ŵyl y wawr,
For every sound recalls the skies,
Pan adlewyrchir haul dros fryniau mawr.
Beneath each letter lies a soul,
O dan y sill, mae hanes wedi’i ffwrio,
A tapestry of voice made whole,
Gwehyddu geiriau’n fyw, yn ysbrydio.
Speak it once and you belong,
Un gair sy’n uno’r tir a’r môr,
In every heart it’s heard as song,
Yn curo’n un, heb ffin nac gôl.
Final Recitation
"Saint Mary's Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of Saint Tysilio of the red cave."

Llanfair­pwll­gwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­­gogo­goch

"The name sings, the name lives once again, the name reigns supreme."
Mae’r enw’n canu, mae’r enw’n byw.unwaith eto, mae’r enw’n goruchwyli.

i.

O' mine asawa, mine novel put away for millennia,
Brute man hast hidden thee from view, thou hast been burdened by men's crucifying, thy fear's art of lonesomeness; as many hast left thee, As I've known thine tears. I've seen and watched thy fear's, over the year's thine heart was bleeding.

ii.

Though whilst thou was leaking from thine wound's, I was keeping track on high, from the moon, and universal sky, from the nebula they calleth God's eye; I made plan's to cometh near. Thither below where I hadst none purpose, other than thee; I asked ourn maker to pusheth me into the sea of the great Pacific ocean, I hadst come with mine love, and incorporeal potion's.

iii.

Afore thine nativity, I hadst known thee a whilst, though as an angel thy falling to the atmosphere madeth thee forget thy memory; and divine self. Though I remembered thou, as thy soulmate from ages passed: I waited, with the great originator, I hadst beseeched him to seeing thee again; mine beloved, mine consort of other realm related. As Elohim kneweth thou was mine Filipino rose, mine all, and best friend: he granted me back heaven, as I landed into thy hand's.





©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedicated