A song alive in memory, though long unheard
Ripples across the years to present the past:
The moorland landscape of Mynydd Bach,
Llyn Eiddwen with water lobelia growing
Through the shallows of the lake and the song
Of the curlew bubbling up to crescendo
Over the cotton grass on the bog on the far side
Where a ruined tower, a folly, sinks into the mire.
All this brought back in vivid re-call
But not so clear as the haunting call
Which would wake the dead and lull the living to sleep
As a woven strand in the song of Rhiannon’s Birds.
So past, present and future meet
In a song that is never forgotten, always heard.
“I want the Birds of Rhiannon, they that wake the dead and lull the living to sleep, to entertain me that night.”
Ysbaddaden Pencawr from Culhwch and Olwen
More about Llyn Eiddwen HERE