Hiraeth

hiraeth is
untranslatable

the closest
ok,
try this

feeling the dapple of leaves in a wood
where a girl
made of flowers
turns to birds

tasting the spray of the twelfth waterfall
that hides a slumbering king

sinking your feet in the tide, undaunted
for ten thousand years
more or less

hearing a rumble -
is it mines
or a choir

smelling the blood of Normans and Romans
who came
and went

knowing that this is new
and that isn’t

Filed under: free verse, hiraeth