Pol Hodgetrans. Pol Hodge (from Cornish)
(rag Anne Reynolds - hendhyskyas)

Men growan yn poran a styr tir
gans parkow ha keow kromm mes hir,
tus dhyskys o gwithys saw ha gwir.

Lemmyn yma goli igor
hag an tir a woes,
dor rudh fest serrys.
Puptra yn fyw,
pub temmik glas
re bia skwardys a-ves
ow kasa gwel meurthek.
Yma sakrans a vywnans
pan veu oberer-fordh
ynkleudhys yn kleudh
- bedh arnowydh dhe vos
gans an hen vedhow
peswar mil vlydhen koth.

Fordh a wra treghi dres nans ha menydh,
gwyns oer na vydh goderrys gans glaswydh.

War gorflann agan hendasow a’n oes brons
y serpont meur a darmak heb kons.

Distruys a vydh an negys teylu
rag mynysenn kyns mos y'n lost Truru.

Dh’agan tasow ni kellys vydh an vro
dhe'n tros-jynn a Ford, Vauxhall ha Volvo.
(for Anne Reynolds - archaeologist)

Granite stone exactly defines a land
with fields and hedges crooked but high,
A learned people were kept safe and true.

Now there is an open wound
and the land bleeds
a red earth so angry.
Everything living,
every scrap of green
had been ripped away
hating/leaving a martian landscape.
There's a sacrifice of life
when a road worker
was buried in a trench
- a modern grave to go
with the ancient graves
four thousand years old.

A road will cut through valley and hill,
a bitter cold wind will not be interrupted by saplings.

On a graveyard of our bronze age ancestors
there will be a great serpent of tarmac without a pavement.

The family business will be destroyed
for a minute saved before joining to the Truro tailback.

Our Fathers will lose the land
to the engine noise of Ford, Vauxhall and Volvo.

Copyright © Pol Hodge 1996 - publ. Kowethas an Yeth Kernewek Fentenwynn

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