Sitting to the east

Sloping down to the edge  

Of that other world

In the summer sun

In the winter chill

The sentinel watched over

The little family in the cottage in the hollow

Lately it had felt her sorrow  

It knew when she left Pant y Lleiniau

And walked slowly along the cart track

To reach the little bridge under the trees

Where she crossed Nant yr Efail ...

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I have always been

On the bleak bald mountain

I have dwelt through the ages

At the deep source of the fountain

Guardian of all knowledge:

Before they knew me

I was here

When this land was fashioned around my soul

Sole guardian uncrowned

Then  I loved this mortal mound

Tenured on God's holy ground

I have always been

At the brow of the hill

I was th...

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You see

            a land wraithed in smoke and the stink of death

You feel

            man's determination dulled by desperation and

            the hollow, guilty hope that the creeping fate might end

            at a neighbour's door.

You cannot farm in the present

At least not in Wales.

The hills were silent memorials to herds brought low,

Uncropped: a tragedy of gr...

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