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Dafydd ap Gwilym

I don't give a monkey-nut for their prissy talk.
Sunday - forgive me, Lord - is an amiable time 
to chase the chaste. After church of course.
But no unburdened smile or sweet kiss ever
from one starched lady of Llanbadarn
And me, so randy, I can hardly walk.

Give them boils, Lord, since none my needs assuage
- not even she whose nose seems like a chair
for spectacles! I ache. If only one, in luck,
roused me int he heather then Garwy himself
would stagger back envious and awestruck.
Lesbians, they must be. Give them pox, Lord, and age.

When, parasolled, they left the church slow-paced
along the gravel pathway, past the grand
shadow of the yew, I winked, I whispered.
Nun-faced they frowned their strait-laced Never!
So I, as true a stud as Garwy stand
near graves, full of sperm. Oh what a waste!

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About the translation:
Poet:
Dafydd ap Gwilym
Translator:
Dannie Abse
Original language:
Welsh
Issue:
Series 3 No.9 - Palestine

About the author

Original poet

Dafydd ap Gwilym

Dafydd ap Gwilym (c. 1315/1320 – c. 1350/1370), is regarded as one of the leading Welsh poets and amongst the great poets of E...

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Dannie Abse

Translator

Dannie Abse

Poet Dannie Abse was born on 22 September 1923 in Cardiff to Jewish parents. He studied Medicine in Wales and at King's Colleg...

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