Secret Love

	I am (angry matter)

	a thief of hidden love.

	Wild birds make nests,

4	amazing nature, bright praise.

	And they do that under the leaves

	in the plaits of the interwoven branches

	in a remote unfrequented place

8	by fine instinct to rear chicks.

	In the same way, in the same

	manner as that (distressful bedfellow),

	I cannot forget it, such foolishness,

12	love made a nest in me,

	and my two ribs, by the Lord Jesus,

	will hide it evermore. It was fruitless labour.

	The two flanks of a fine handsome lad

16	are branches, fragile existence.

	I will sing although I complain,

	and my heart is ever passion's nest.

	The love of the pure bright girl

20	will never be got out of the nest even by trickery.

	That scoundrel of a jealous husband,

	bald harsh man, will not find this nest,

	and I don't care, barking shout,

24	if he never manages to find it.

	I am certain indeed, unfailing poet,

	that it will never be known.

	Unless she of gentle features, image of a lily,

28	makes it known, evil and costly hinderance,

	the intent of heart and melancholy breast

	will remain hidden away there.

	Wherever I may be in the house,

32	such might be expected, two inexorable passions,

	the eyes beneath very slender brows

	seek me out, recollection of a lovely summer day.

	Bold one's oath, from where I am

36	I see her, I am like an angel,

	her laugh, so seductive,

	and the expressions of her slender eyebrows.

	I don't deny exchanging glances

40	with my darling. I get no less [from her].

	Her look, jewel of all Wales,

	and her love, bold flight,

	fine bright slender girl with body the colour of foam,

44	went through my breast and my heart and my body

	as a rounded arrow would go through a sheaf of dry hay,

	lovely faultless bosom.

	The noble Abbot Beuno will not let this

48	ever be known, the exchange of looks.

	If it be known I will be exiled

	from the land of Wales, angry Welshman.