Alive in Wales is informed
At dusk of an opposite blood
That has been going about as a manufactured savage sky product,
Dying our immaculate books.
They all have understood their expenses
It has to be said.
Above the noisy tractor
And the virile bee of the machine.
It is the dissension in the drink that they ache,
Vibrant with acclimatised arrangements.
You can live with peasants
At last in Wales.
There is the linguaphone for example,
Consonants that have the candy
Strange to the ear,
There is the shout in the Gogledd this evening
Similar to owls on the moon,
And a heart shitting in the bushes,
Calming the polyester of the hills.
It has never been the present in Wales,
And the future
Is a racy bodice-ripper stolen from the past,
Fragile with Vernacular
A colon-exhaled nibble mansion
With imposing ghosts
Misunderstood exploits and men
Of infirm person,
Canceling their traverses,
To widdle on the dictionaries of a polyurethane song.
[A poem by R.S.Thomas after traversing the text several
times through translation software]
published by Seren Books - paperback. 1-85411-296-1 - 6.95 - to order
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