Artys Divedhow / Sober Arts

Ny wrav vy leverel gowyow, pur dha yw genev diwes tevesik po dew (po tri po pajar po moy). My a skrifas an bardhonek ma y'n hav usi passyes wosa gorthugher poos a worvedhwi hag omlowenhe. Yn golow an nessa myttin, mar dha re bia, ny yllis vy enebi travyth rag nebes ourys. Selyes war ow thybyansow dhe'n pols na, ha termynyow erel a'n par, yw an bardhonek ma ytho. I shan't tell a lie, I'm very fond of an adult beverage or two (or three or four or more). I wrote this poem last summer after a heavy evening of merriment. In the light of the next morning, as good as it had been, I could not face anything for quite a few hours. This poem, for its sins, is based on my thoughts at that time, and other similar instances.

Agh ow jowl arta Yth esos omma Genev vy y'm gweli Ow le saw vy Hag ow holya a wrussys Kepar ha skolksewwas A'n barr nyhewer Yn unn dhri an gewer A sav lemmyn y'm penn Usi heb gorfen Hag a-dro hag a-dro Yma genev dha ro A sowdhen ow brys Ha klafhe gen hwys An viaj dibenn A gosk dhe dhifun Mes yntredha 'ma drogdra Drefen my dhe skwardya Fin an gwirder Neb le wosa'n nessa Gwedren hag y'n tressa Y hasis blas bystyon Yn darnow ympynnyon a neyj lemmyn yn-bann orth ow gasa yn hwann dhe vires delergh dre vesyon towargh ha fler an nos kyns a ladh avel gwyns ty dhe forsya hag edrega re dhiwedhes y'n mostedhes agh ple 'ma'n botel kyns my dhe verwel Ty jowl, ty pyst a'm ges vy yn prest jest gas vy yn kres yn ow howlsedhes ny allav vy sevel nyns esov vy abel dhivedhowder yw molleth yth esos an keth ha vyvy mes gwell awos my yw foul dhe stoppya enjoya rag my dhe skwithhe pana skogyn ov vy pan vo diwes rydh

Oh my devil again You are here With me in my bed My safe place And you followed ME As a stalker From the abr last night Bringing the weather That sits now in my head That is without end And around and around I have your gift Which surprises my mind And sickens with sweat The unending journey From sleep to awake But between them There’s evil As I tore The edge of reality Somewhere after the second Glass and in the third I left the nasty taste In pieces of brain that fly upwards now leaving me weak to look back through peat vision and the stench of the last night which kills like a wind you forced  and regret too late in the dirt oh where to’s the bottle before I die You devil, you plague always making a mockery of me just leave me in peace in my setting sun I cannot stand I am not able sobriety is a curse you are the same as me but better for I am a fool to stop enjoying as I had tired I can hardly think when there’s a free drink