A Game Of 'Nuts In My Hand'

	I have a psalm from the book of Ovid in my memory;

	a lover will be without cunning tricks

	unless he has a companion near at hand

4	to whom he can confess everything.

	There is one just as I wish,

	a love poet who is my bosom-friend,

	a helper in my slavish love,

8	consultant of the pangs of longing.

	There was never anyone more shameless

	(dear little sweetheart, if she is guileless,

	she will play no false tricks)

12	than us two (my lovely girl).

	And it was he who began

	the production of the sound of painful love.

	We played a false game, we knew why,

16	for the sake of a beauty like Eigr.

	'There are nuts in my tender right hand.'

	'They will come to me; a gentle man will take them.'

	'Peas of free green hazel, trees of the hawk-wind,

20	Why are they yours? They are big nuts.'

	'They were sent to me, strength of a binding plait.'

	'Who is it?' said he, 'What for?

	Look to see, so that you do not lessen gain,

24	whether it was a gentle girl who sent them.'

	'A tall slender maid with a face like fine gossamer,

	fair Morfudd, her reward will be great.'

	'Does the girl who afflicts poets love you?'

28	'She does, indeed; I am beloved.

	If she loves me, leave there (jewel of a hundred)

	an odd number because of the passion.'

	I took the nuts, bright omen,

32	profitable, by God and Deinioel.

	The slender-browed girl sent me these,

	what a generous jewel,

	for a golden poem without any faulty words,

36	colour of a layer of snow, crop of hazel.

	I am the groom of a high tryst,

	if the omen is true, squire of the woods.

	If it is false, men of religion will not believe me,

40	if it is a true omen, gaining salvation,

	there will be a tryst in greenwood,

	gentle portent, if the omen is not false.

	Bunches and plumage of woods

44	altogether, lovely crop of trees,

	shining husks with fat kernels,

	pommels of hazel branches,

	the tips of fingers when they did once thrust

48	through the gloves of the forest.

	It is not unpleasant to bear a salutation

	of buttons, tokens of love.

	No mouth will break them for gluttony's sake,

52	I am Ysgolan, no one will see them.

	The girl's shining gift will not be broken

	with a stone, rightful prohibition.

	I myself from my provision

56	of nuts, made by Jesus Christ,

	will repay the fruit of the forest

	to her lovely face before [they become] dust in the green earth.