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
