bigbluemeanie

Navigation

Home | Links | .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) | Videos | Scarlett | Site notices

About This Site

About
A personal weblog with photographs and comments. Quiet ramblings, quite rambling...

Members

Login | Register | Why?

Search

Advanced Search

Most recent entries

Recent entries with comments

Feeds

Categories

Monthly Archives

Links

Lately listening to


Site Statistics

Site Credits

Next entry: The Phoenix

Previous entry: Tregoyd

Monday, 22 October 2012
Welsh Landscape

image

To live in Wales is to be conscious
At dusk of the spilled blood
That went to the making of the wild sky.
Dyeing the immaculate rivers
In all their courses.
It is to be aware,
Above the noisy tractor
And hum of the machine
Of strife in the strung woods,
Vibrant with sped arrows.
You cannot live in the present,
At least not in Wales.
There is the language for instance,
The soft consonants
Strange to the ear.
There are cries in the dark at night
As owls answer the moon,
And thick ambush of shadows,
Hushed at the fields’ corners.
There is no present in Wales,
And no future:
There is only the past,
Brittle with relics,
Wind-bitten towers and castles
With sham ghosts;
Mouldering quarries and mines;
And an impotent people,
Sick with inbreeding,
Worrying the carcase of an old song.

~ by R.S. Thomas (1913 - 2000).

Hearing someone quote a section of this poem (“There is no present in Wales… Sick with inbreeding”) on Saturday night prompted me to look it up. I took the photograph earlier this year at the Welsh National Coal Museum at Blaenavon, known as Big Pit. I don’t think that my photograph accompanies the poem by this Welsh Nationalist very well, but I wanted to publish it for some time.

Posted by bigblue on 22/10/2012 at 08:05 AM
Filed under: EuropeUnited KingdomWales • (0) CommentsPermalinkBookmark or Share

To post a comment Login or Register (Why?)