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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


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