Poem
Some 248 short lines long (usually five syllables and a rest), and falling into several sections, the poem begins with an extended claim of first-hand knowledge of all things, in a fashion found later in the poem and also in several others attributed to Taliesin;
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Cymraeg/Welsh
Bum cledyf yn aghat
Bum yscwyt yg kat
Bum tant yn telyn.
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English
I was a sword in fist
I was a shield in battle
I was a string on a harp.
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culminating in a claim to have been at "Caer Vevenir" when the Lord of Britain did battle. There follows an account of a great monstrous beast, of the fear of the Britons and how, by Gwydion's skill and the grace of God, the trees marched to battle: then follows a list of plants, each with some outstanding attribute, now apt, now obscure;
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Cymraeg/Welsh
Gwern blaen llin,
A want gysseuin
Helyc a cherdin
Buant hwyr yr vydin.
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English
Alder, front of the line,
formed the vanguard
Willow and Rowan
were late to the fray.
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The poem then breaks into a first-person account of the birth of the flower-maiden Blodeuwedd, and then the history of another one, a great warrior, once a herdsman, now a learned traveller, perhaps Arthur or Taliesin himself. After repeating an earlier reference to the flood, the crucifixion and the day of judgment, the poem closes with an obscure reference to metalwork. Read more about this topic: Cad Goddeu
Famous quotes containing the word poem:
“The poem is lonely. It is lonely and en route. Its author stays with it. Does this very fact not place the poem already here, at its inception, in the encounter, in the mystery of encounter?”
—Paul Celan [Paul Antschel] (1920–1970)
“Poetry has no goal other than itself; it can have no other, and no poem will be so great, so noble, so truly worthy of the name of poem, than one written uniquely for the pleasure of writing a poem.”
—Charles Baudelaire (1821–1867)
“It has been played once more. I think you exist only
To tease me into doing it, on your level, and then you aren’t there
Or have adopted a different attitude. And the poem
Has set me softly down beside you. The poem is you.”
—John Ashbery (b. 1927)
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