Poems by Nelferch Merchoed
Hill of the Arrow
or
Blodeuwedd II
i B.A. , gyda chariad
I feel the tree behind my back-
A re-assuring touch.
There’s no escape from You,
Me being captive
In the bower of Your arms,
The sunny parlour of Your soul.
Your hair touches my cheek,
I feel Your breath, Your lips
Close to my ear.
My eyes are fixed on
Rolling emerald-green hills,
On mountains burning with autumn colours.
The day’s last light is painting shadows of deep purple.
An owl is brushing past,
Soft feathers without sound
Touching the air .
You whisper but a single word: “Blodeuwedd.”
Blodeuwedd.
I do not know ,
Is it the owl You name with poets’ words,
Is it a compliment, a plea to welcome You
As she did with her huntsman,
Is it foretelling of my fate:
Creating woe unwillingly
By following my love?
The only thing I know is this
That I am glad about the night of the dark moon,
So that no light betrays our making love
Except the one which You have kindled in my heart.