SONG FOR GWYDION*
When I was a child and the soft flesh was forming
Quietly as snow on the bare bough of bone,
My father brought me trout from the green river
From whose chill lips the water song had flown.
Dull grew their eyes, the beautiful, blithe garland
Of stipple faded, as light shocked the brain;
They were the first sweet sacrifice I tasted,
A young god, ignorant of the blood's stain.
Notes:
* Gwydion ... R.S.Thomas's only child.
'The rectory was on the banks of the stream, the Rhiw,
which rose in the moorland about ten miles to the west. It
was thick with trout, which gladdened my father's heart,
when I told him.'
(R.S.Thomas, "Autobiographical Essay", edited by William V. Davis,
Miraculous Simplicity,(The University of Arkansas Press, 1993) p. 9)
"Song for Gwydion,"
from Song at the Year's Turning
You can also find this in
COLLECTED POEMS 1945-1990(J.M.Dent, 1993).
background image: The river Rhiw in Manafon.
This photo was taken in August 2002 by Yoshifum! Nagata.