Dyddgu | |
Ieuan, lord with good lineage and fiery spear, | |
fine son of Gruffudd, battle inciter, | |
son of Llywelyn Llwyd, white wine–court, | |
4 | you are a chieftain, true leader in battle, |
the other night, fierce nature, | |
I was in your house. May you be fully recompensed. | |
From then until today proper sleep | |
8 | has not come easily to me, beautiful colour. |
I received your gold freely and gladly, | |
your bright wine, your gaiety, | |
your fresh mead, unstinting for poets, | |
12 | your bragget with black foam. |
Your daughter, slender beauty from your white stone court, | |
I know she would not be courted. | |
I have not had a wink of sleep, | |
16 | I have not woven any poetry, pangs of distress. |
Holy God (who will assuage me?), | |
nothing goes into my heart | |
but her precious love. | |
20 | If I were to be given all, would I need more? |
She does not love me. Sickness wastes me. | |
Even if she lets me live to old age she will not let me sleep. | |
The wonder of my slim darling's face | |
24 | would be wonderous to the Sages of Rome. |
Whiter than the snow of spring. | |
I am bereft for love of the gentle girl. | |
Her forehead is white below woven strand, | |
28 | black her hair, the girl is pure. |
The hair is blacker, straight the strands, | |
than a blackbird or a brooch of jet. | |
Stainless whiteness on bright flesh | |
32 | makes the hair more black, fitting praise. |
The manner of her features, says her poet, | |
happy day, is not unlike | |
the lovely girl whom the warrior | |
36 | loved long ago, my utter distress, |
Peredur son of Efrog, mighty courteous knight, | |
intensely painful vision, | |
when he was looking, splendid radiance, | |
40 | in the snow, lord like an eagle, |
azure was his mantle, by Esyllt's grove, | |
proud path, where the wild hawk | |
had been killing, unhindered by anyone, | |
44 | a blackbird, proud maiden in the wrong. |
There were true signs there | |
of this girl's image (is it not paid for by God?): | |
her forehead is as bright as a deep snowdrift, | |
48 | according to her family. |
The wing of the swift blackbird | |
is like her brow. I am enchanted. | |
The bird's blood after it had snowed, | |
52 | sun's intensity, is like her cheeks. |
Just so, gold–adorned organ, | |
is Dyddgu with the shining pure–black hair. | |
I was formerly a judge wandering back and forth. | |
56 | Let the company of judges yonder pass judgement |
as to whether my life is viable or not | |
because of my darling, my true desire. | |