The Briar | |
A loveless journey, I courted a Tegau, | |
complaint resulting from a gentle pact, I remember it well, | |
a lovely tender embrace, | |
4 | gift of a proud one, no shallow love. |
I made a firm decision, | |
the memory causes long sleeplessness, | |
distressing favour, the intent was faultless, | |
8 | to go on a journey to make love to a fair girl. |
A regretful path to make love, | |
it was a tiresome morning's journey, | |
splendid gift, kindly work, | |
12 | while the day was still young, |
hope is a fine thing, before anyone in my area | |
knew where I intended to go. | |
I was about to make my way to the court | |
16 | to try to see the slim beauty, bright treasure, |
fine wealth, so I thought, | |
[though] it's no easy matter to gain access by trust, | |
bitter deceit is more likely, as well I know, | |
20 | the result above the high ground was worse. |
Having heard praise of the shining girl's love | |
I avoided meeting a single soul, | |
secret profit, cunning stratagem, | |
24 | I was very skilful. |
I left the main road and popular path | |
and made my own way yonder. | |
I walked amongst the oak saplings | |
28 | along hollows and tumps for miles, |
from the edge of the valley to the lovely chancel [of the woods] | |
along a non–existent path between hill and church. | |
The track made me seek the shade | |
32 | of the thick dark trees, overpowering love. |
I stumbled over one of them | |
into the briars for a maiden's sake. | |
It dug clingingly into me by the slope, | |
36 | horrid ugly thing, hedge's intestine, |
with its tight grip, like an ensnaring thong, | |
diseased spectre. | |
Swift its teeth above a bank, | |
40 | omen of shame, although it looks thin, |
it gave me a nasty lesson in limping, | |
my lust was in vain, and it caught me tight. | |
On the brink of the valley, wild wood, | |
44 | it twisted itself round my legs. |
I fell and tumbled there | |
head over heels all of a sudden | |
on the brink of the valley, nasty accident, | |
48 | it was hard to move easily, tenacious assault. |
Shame on the filthy churlish thing! | |
It snared a poet and left its mark on me. | |
It deserved no peace because of the way | |
52 | its thousand teeth, sorry tale, |
wounded my two legs, | |
harsh scorn, stupid tugging. | |
Its crop is tiresome and horrible, | |
56 | blackberry fruit with its silly shape and colour; |
too troublesome withe, | |
agonising is the pain caused by the bush's hair band. | |
Vicious is the way it scratches trees, | |
60 | halter from a miser's barren field; |
leg of a dour heron under the signs of the stars, | |
vain clinging branches; | |
net–line thrown away in anger, | |
64 | snare on the slope of field's peak; |
tether, it was in a gap, | |
string of the trees of the valley, it was strong. | |
May there soon be a fire, the lanky lout, | |
68 | it gave me a nasty reward, |
spiky sharp–toothed one which cost me dear, | |
which will burn it to avenge my wrath. | |