Douglas Spencer (dougs) wrote,
Douglas Spencer

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Project S, supplemental -- poetry.

We've had a bit of difficulty, scarlatti and I, over the last couple of days. Some of you know why.
I wanted to reassure her, to try and help her to realise what I really want long-term, to try and help her to realise that I find her irresistibly attractive.
I thought I had a poem somewhere. I could remember reading it, I knew it said part of what I wanted to say. But I couldn't remember a single word of it when I tried to quote it to myself.
I woke up early this morning, made a concerted effort to find it. And now I've found it, I know why I couldn't remember it.
It's not in English, that's why. By a cruel irony, it's in Welsh. Mediaeval Welsh, at that. But it's still beautiful, it still says (part of) exactly what I like about her.

Lines from Cywydd Y Cedor by Gwerful Mechain, late 15th century.

Sawden awdl, sidan ydiw
sêm fach, len ar gont wen wiw
lleiniau mewn man ymannerch,
y llwyn sur, llawn yw o serch,
fforest falch iawn, ddawn ddifrog
ffris ffraill, ffwrwr dwygail deg
breisglwyn merch, drud annerch dro,
berth addwyn, Duw'n borth iddo.

Somehow, I doubt she can read mediaeval Welsh. And although I don't have the translation to hand, I'm fairly sure this is the bit that I wanted to quote.
I don't think the translation would be terribly work-safe.

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