The Prophecy of Gwench'lan

English trans. : Iain MacAnTsaoir

hen the sun goes to rest, when the tides of the sea comes in,
I sing standing on the threshold of my door.
When I was young I sang. Now I am old and I sing still.
I sing in the night, I sing in the day, but nevertheless I grieve.
If I have a lowered head, if I grieve, it is not without cause.
The cause is not because I am afraid. I am not afraid to die.
The cause is not because I am afraid. I have lived long enough.
When I am not sought I will be found. When I am sought I will not be found.
No need to fear what will happen! what must be will be.
It is necessary to die all three deaths before one can at last rest.

I see the wild boar of the dark wood.
He limps on a wounded foot, his open mouth full with blood, his hair silver with age.
He is surrounded by his young wild boars who grumble with hunger.
I also see the sea horse come to meet him, making the shore tremble with terror.
The sea horse is as white as brilliant snow; and holds to its face two money horns.
The water boils under him, from the fire and the thunder from its nostrils.
Sea horses surround it, pressing close like the grass at the edge of the pond
- Hold tight, hold tight, sea horse! Strike it in the head! Strike hard, with your striking!
Bare feet slip in the gore. Strike harder still! Strike hard! And even harder still!
I see blood like a brook. Strike hard! Strike hard! And even harder still!
I see blood rising up to his knee! I see blood like a pond!
Strike harder still! Strike hard! And even harder still, you may rest tomorrow.
Strike hard! strike hard, sea horse! Strike it in the head, strike hard! strike!

III

As I was gently laid to rest in my tomb cold,
I willed the eagle to call out in the middle of the night,
The eagle called to its eaglets and all birds of the sky,
And it called out to them saying:
- Raise up quickly on your wings!
It is not the rotted flesh of dog or ewe, it is Christian flesh that we need!
- Old Sea Crow, heard: say to me, what hold you there?
- I hold the chieftain of an army. I want to have his two red eyes.
I tore out his two eyes, because he tore off your dress.
- And you, fox, say to me, what do you hold there?
- I hold his heart, which was as false as mine.
Who longed for your death, and caused you to die over and over.
- And, say you to me, toad: what do you do there, at the corner of his mouth?
- Me, I put myself here to await his soul when it passes.
So she will remain in me as long as I live, in punishment of the crime that I have committed
Against the poet which once lived between Roc' h-Allaz and Porz-Gwenn.

création : 30/08/2009