Poetry

I posted this one yesterday I think for Aaron, but I want to share it again. It's a traditional Latvian Daina.

Pilna upe baltu ziedu,
Nedrīkstēju pāri bristi.
Tautiets mani žaelodamis,
Laipā lika zobentiņu.

Translation (by me)
River full of white flowers,
I dare not wade across.
My suitor, pitying me,
Laid his sword for a bridge.

Here's a poem I wrote based on Welsh mythology.  I intended it mostly as a study of narrative poetry and specifically worked with a particular metrical formula and rhyme scheme.

Every strophe has the following rhythm:

`- `- `-` || `- `- `-
`- `- `- `- `- `- `-
`- `- `- `- `- `- `-
`- `- `- `- `- `- `-

So, basically, iambic heptameter with a caesura in the first line of each strophe.  The rhyme scheme for each strophe is AABA, but each following strophe uses the "off" line as the basis for the next strophe.  So AABA, BBCB, CCDC, etc., rhyming both within the strophes and connecting it to the next in a chain of rhymed endings.

I entitled it Y Cad Wenabwy ac Arawn (The Battle of Gwenabwy and Arawn)


Gwenabwy had grown lonely, the fairy princess fair,
With violet eyes and braided tresses of her chestnut hair.
For centuries she’d lived a life of grief and loss and pain,
So now she climbed the mountain seeking end to her despair.

The rocks were wet and mossy, her dress was soaked from rain.
It lashed around her ceaselessly upon that harsh terrain.
Upon Yr Wyddfa she would seek a black-clad fairy lord,
To Arawn she would go to find the path to his domain.

She walked above the cloud tops, her energy restored,
And sheathed was Gwynias on her waist, her father’s magic sword.
Atop the mountain she would meet the Otherworldly king,
With eyes like coals and cloak of night, her death he could accord.

“First,” said he, “my lady, I’d love to hear you sing,
To tell me of thy grace which to my kingdom thou wouldst bring.
And may the song thou singest be as lovely as thy face,
Then afterwards our swords will clash, and so our steel shall ring.”

“My lord,” began Gwenabwy, “I have no saving grace,
My life has been a burden that instead I would erase.
To sing of it would break my heart, for it is cold as ice,
I am a dreadful wretch dressed up in satin and in lace.”

“Forsooth!” said he, “my maiden, your countenance is nice,
But if you wish to come with me, then you must pay the price.
I asked you for a song, and so a song you’ll grant to me,
The Lord of Annwn never likes to ask a damsel twice.”

“Mercy,” cried Gwenabwy, “and listen to my plea,
To take my soul into your land and set my spirit free.
I have no use for earthly things, nor wish my lord to fight,
So strike me down with sharpened blade and fell me like a tree.”

The lord threw back his mantle, his eyes were flashing bright.
“My lady, I shall show you but a taste of Arawn’s might.”
And there he cleft the mountaintop and shook the wooded vale,
Gwenabwy drew her sword and fast she stood in dying light.

“Then let my blade sing for me,” she spoke into the gale,
The wind rushed by and stole her warmth, and then her face turned pale.
She brandished Gwynias bravely and it shimmered on the peak,
Gwenabwy faced the Lord of Death with neither shield nor mail.

“I see thou art a brave girl,” to her did Arawn speak,
“But courage always falters when my wrath the living seek.
So put away thy weapon and present to me thy gift.
A fairy princess can’t beat me, for thou art far too weak.”

Gwenabwy gave her answer, her slashing sword was swift,
But Arawn dodged her every blow and set her soul adrift.
She staggered in a daze and then he knocked away her blade.
“To the Abyss I send you now, thou shalt descend the rift.”

The fairy princess wavered, she felt her spirit fade.
Then Arawn left her body there and took with him her shade.
She said, “I am defeated now, so let your mercy show.
I pledge myself to you forever as your humble maid.”

“Oh, thou art mine already, to me you can’t bestow
Yourself or any offer that will raise you from below.
Your soul will wander endlessly about the black Abyss.
Unless you want to sing for me before I let you go.”

Gwenabwy wept and struggled, “My lord, I’ve been remiss,
I’ll give myself to be your bride and seal it with a kiss.
You may possess my father’s sword, I’ll never disobey.
Just take my sadness from me and replace it with some bliss.”

Then Arawn smiled greatly, and smugly did he say,
“To have your hand was what I wanted from thee, wench, today.
And now you’ll be my slavish queen to serve me evermore.”
He grabbed her sword from off the ground and then took her away.

“I have but one request now, my lord whom I adore.
Please let me hold my father’s sword within my hands once more.”
So Arawn gave to her the blade and took her by the hand,
And forthwith took Gwenabwy to the Otherworldly shore.

Her fury rose within her, he fell for what she'd planned.
“I have that song you asked for now that we have reached your land.”
She thrust into his heart her sword, he turned as cold as frost.
She left the Otherworldly king to bleed upon the strand.

And so she sought Lord Edern, the lover she had lost.
The fairy princess lost her life but gladly paid the cost.
Gwenabwy’s love could not be stopped by Lord of Death’s embrace.
And by her love into the realm of death the damsel crossed.

Oh, I hadn't even thought of that! I kind of envisioned this as something excerpted from a longer tale (remember that one of my favorite works is Edmund Spenser's "The Fairy Queen", which is just a long narrative poem like this, though far less strict in its execution). So I guess maybe it didn't seem important to me to make the ending "tonally closed" (to borrow a music term) from the first stanza, but maybe if I ever go back to this to make it longer, I can keep that in mind. If I had strophes to the beginning, maybe I can have an -ace line in there to round it all out.

Thank you, Aaron!