Barclodiad y gawres*

My eyes peer through the iron gate
Transporting me ten thousand years
Great boulders leaning inwards,
Lure me down the passage to
Where, bent beneath the roof
Men pull their leader’s corpse
Into his vaulted chamber.
Returning to the lofty crossing place
Where old folk tend the mackerel
That smokes above the hearth,
They leer at me then point
Across into another gloomy crypt.
There before a small dead child
A kneeling woman weeps.
Beyond her is a door of stone
Etched with sacred symbols
Inside lie the bones of giants
Of an even older time.
* Apronful of the giantess