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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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I had to write a poem for a contest at school...it had to praise wales. I`m actually quite far from being welsh but the poem won...

 

The Welsh Spirit

 

Over the hills and plains,

over the woods and meadows,

over the rivers and lakes

the Ancient Spirits are flying,

floating in the soft breeze

that is carrying their transparent bodies

farther.....closer....again and again....

They are watching their lands.

They are dead but not gone...

Byth*.....

 

The meadows were greener when they were alive,

the forests were mightier at that very time,

the water was clearer in rivers and lakes -

once again the old Welsh Spirit will wake!

 

“My people,

it is your land!

Your undefeated bodies

will not let them take it away!

Your brave hearts

will defend it forever!

We will win!

We will hold our culture,

our freedom, our home!

RYDDID**! RYDDID! RYDDID!!!”

 

They were invincible

yet their bodies were beaten.

Their hearts were brave

yet they were slaughtered.

They were overthrown

yet the Welsh Spirit lives forever.

They will defend their souls

that can never be taken away...

Byth.....

 

 

 

Soaked with blood, these places are empty now.

Foreigners have stepped on the memories of the past,

memories that are held by the Ancient Spirits

who are present every hour, every minute, every second,

who do not know Time,

who are timeless.

They are there, covering the bloody land

with golden peace.

Quiet....

Only soft breeze carrying the Welsh Spirit...

 

Once again when time is right,

the Ancient Mind will start to fight.

Never giving up – then and only then

the Welsh Spirit will rise again!

 

 

*byth – never

**ryddid - freedom

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