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"Awen yn codi o'r cudd ac yn cydio'r cwbl"
- Waldo Williams
(Awen arising from hiding and everything binding)

Iwan Llwyd (1957-2010)

I'm re-blogging my translation of 'Y Corryn' by Iwan Llwyd following his recent sudden death at the age of 52.
The Spider

His web was perfect
and him sitting there
where the glistening threads intersect:

he spent his life knitting sunlight
to a round plane of dew;
the end of his labour in sight

he'd listen to the drip of the rain
between the lines
silently shifting their refrain

and the grey river in full flow
irritable as it falls
companionless below

to meet the brackish floods
between the autumn cliffs
and the fringed woods;

he is impatient
weaving intricate patterns,
each answering assent

marking an exact measure
between corner and centre
stealing the stars' treasure

of diamonds to entice
insects along steel threads
towards the silence:

then a sudden rush of air
a quiver through the intersections;
like an old man he's there

under the yellow leaves
gathering it all in
to the pattern that he weaves.


  1. Goodness, I'm sorry to hear that. Was it a heart attack? I really liked a poem of his about modern day soldiers (first Gulf war?)and photographers or journalists I think, linking it with the Gododdin. Do you know the one I mean and which collection it's in?

  2. I don't know the cause. Just that he was found in a house, so must have died alone.

    I'm not sure which poem you mean, although it sounds like one by Tony Conran about the Falklands War.


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