Ystorm.
In the thick pitch-howling
Rocking the walls
Tree cracking at the
windows rattle
Of my edges
Comes the Presli
Night storm screeching
Calling my name - like a lover.
Over Drigarn and into town
Across thicket fields and livlock hills
And cae Bach and Parc
It pushes, shoves and claws its way
To my small caravan hedge-tucked
it finds my far away bed!
in the isolated cwm
Where no lights shine
here in Tegfryn Lletty
Ti yw'n unig ac yn unig!
It blasts my soul.
it scorns under the floor
Under the door
Freezing to the core
And down the gutter pipes
Accusing me in essence and being
Of not living.
Rwyf wedi dy ddarganfod di.
Ti hunan-gynffonig yw.
Ni fyddi di'n cymryd dy gadair, na gwisgo dy ddillad Derwydd!
I have said the deep spell in Baladaulyn
Dwfn Annwfn was the incandescences.
I mix the spells red and white!
I have uttered the last swnion
Down the poison chalice of Ceridwen
And now I’m the lone alone man
So Profoundly so.
That the storm translates me
penetrates me
transfigures me
and becomes me
Fi yw e!
