Cywydd y Cedor

Cywydd y Cedor

Thanks to the magic of the random article generator on wikipedia, I have discovered a classic poem from what is considered the greatest female poet of the welsh language. The poet is Gwerful Mechain and the poem is Cywydd y Cedor written in the 1480s, first in Welsh, then English.

gan Gwerful Mechain
Pob rhyw brydydd, dydd dioed,
mul frwysg, wladaidd rwysg erioed,
noethi moliant, nis gwrantwyf,
anfeidrol reiol yr wyf,
am gerdd merched y gwledydd
a wnaethant heb ffyniant ffydd
yn anghwbl iawn, ddawn ddiwad,
ar hyd y dydd, rho Duw Dad:
moli gwallt, cwnsallt ceinserch,
a phob cyfryw sy fyw o ferch,
ac obry moli heb wg
yr aeliau uwchlaw’r olwg;
moli hefyd, hyfryd dwf,
foelder dwyfron feddaldwf,
a breichiau gwen, len loywlun,
dylai barch, a dwylaw bun.
Yno o’i brif ddewiniaeth
cyn y nos canu a wnaeth,
Duw er ei radd a’i addef,
diffrwyth wawd o’i dafawd ef:
gadu’r canol heb foliant
a’r plas lle’r enillir plant,
a’r cedor clyd, rhagor claer,
tynerdew, cylch twn eurdaer,
lle carwn i, cywrain iach,
y cedor dan y cadach.
Corff wyd diball ei allu,
cwrt difreg o’r bloneg blu.
Llyma ‘ynghred, teg y cedawr,
cylch gweflau ymylau mawr,
pant yw hwy na llwy na llaw,
clawdd i ddal cal ddwy ddwylaw;
cont yno wrth din finffloch,
dabl y gerdd â’i dwbl o goch.
Ac nid arbed, freisged frig,
y gloywsaint, gwyr eglwysig
mewn cyfle iawn, ddawn ddifreg,
myn Beuno, ei deimlo’n deg.
Am hyn o chwaen, gaen gerydd,
y prydyddion sythion sydd,
gadewch heb ffael er cael ced
gerddau cedor i gerdded.
Sawden awdl, sidan ydiw,
sêm fach, len ar gont wen wiw,
lleiniau mewn man ymannerch,
y llwyn sur, llawn yw o serch,
fforest falch iawn, ddawn ddifreg,
ffris ffraill, ffwrwr dwygaill deg,
breisglwyn merch, drud annerch dro,
berth addwyn, Duw’n borth iddo.

The Female Genitals

Every foolish drunken poet,
boorish vanity without ceasing,
(never may I warrant it,
I of great noble stock,)
has always declaimed fruitless praise
in song of the girls of the lands
all day long, certain gift,
most incompletely, by God the Father:
praising the hair, gown of fine love,
and every such living girl,
and lower down praising merrily
the brows above the eyes;
praising also, lovely shape,
the smoothness of the soft breasts,
and the beauty’s arms, bright drape,
she deserved honour, and the girl’s hands.
Then with his finest wizardry
before night he did sing,
he pays homage to God’s greatness,
fruitless eulogy with his tongue:
leaving the middle without praise
and the place where children are conceived,
and the warm quim, clear excellence,
tender and fat, bright fervent broken circle,
where I loved, in perfect health,
the quim below the smock.
You are a body of boundless strength,
a faultless court of fat’s plumage.
I declare, the quim is fair,
circle of broad-edged lips,
it is a valley longer than a spoon or a hand,
a ditch to hold a penis two hands long;
c**t there by the swelling arse,
song’s table with its double in red.
And the bright saints, men of the church,
when they get the chance, perfect gift,
don’t fail, highest blessing,
by Beuno, to give it a good feel.
For this reason, thorough rebuke,
all you proud poets,
let songs to the quim circulate
without fail to gain reward.
Sultan of an ode, it is silk,
little seam, curtain on a fine bright c**t,
flaps in a place of greeting,
the sour grove, it is full of love,
very proud forest, faultless gift,
tender frieze, fur of a fine pair of testicles,
a girl’s thick grove, circle of precious greeting,
lovely bush, God save it.

This poem was published by Dafydd Johnston and the translation is also by him.


3 COMMENTS
  • Thanks for all my friends » Do not let true love tears, Do not let the roses wilt

    […] Cywydd y Cedor | The Dudeletter […]

  • Yer Speth

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  • Lilyana Colman

    Lilyana Colman…

    Very neat post.Much thanks again. Great….

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