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.