Skath-dhraylya an Yukon / Yukon Dredge

Y tevnydhyas skathow-draylya yn arenebedh an Yukon yn Alaska bys y'n 1980ow dhe balas owr a-dhyworth gweliow pollow bian. Hag an skathow ma ow movya, i a vynnsa lyftya'n pri ha'n godhes ha'ga thowlel war-dhelergh dhedhi, ow tivagli'n owr orth mones. Dre wul hemma, i a vynnsa movya desedhans an poll ha balya owr a arenebedh bras. Yma'n bardhonek ma selyes war wydhyow a welis a skath-dhraylya forsakyes, yn unn vreyna y'n tyller may kasas nans yw moy es 60 bledhen. Orth goles an folen ma yma'n gwydhyow a welis a awenas an bardhonek. Dredgers were used in the Yukon region of Alaska until the 1980's to dig gold from the beds of small ponds. As these barges moved, they would lift the clay and sediment and throw them behind it, separating the gold as they went. In doing this, they would move the location of the pond and mine gold from a large area. This poem is based on a video I saw of an abandoned dredge, rotting where it had been left over 60 years before. At the bottom of the page is the video I saw that inspired this.

Ow towlel yn lent pri ha men Owth arneuvya war fros owr Dhe lawya rychys a’n kelorn Ow neshe lewyans duwder  Mes gen leuv tus y’n tochyas Hag ev ow kwaynya fortun Re dhiwedhes byth rag korf koth  Na welas diner honan Yn fennleys rewys ow rosya Dowr teudh dhryft yn tivedras Y’n skwatt ha gweskel ev gans rach Dhe lannow hen diskerys Gweli heylyn segh tewesek Gen gow pyrit kil-lenwys A’n ankor ev lemmyn dhe’n tir Yn-nans yth a y’n lanwes Beudhys yw an tan marow Eskern gwrys a furv an poll Stag yns yn termyn ankevys Degvledhynnyow a dhe goll Dastewynnyes yn lynn heb tonn An prysk re gemeras y ena Trevesigys yn godhes koth Nahen yn dowr ow palya

Slowly throwing mud and rock On gold’s stream floating Raining wealth with every scoop Approaching divinity driving But it was touched by man As he sought out his fortune Far too late for an old hulk That never saw a sovereign In frozen silt exploring Melt water aimlessly drifts It forces and it presses  Into old fallen banks A dry and sandy creek bed Backfilled with pyrite lies Anchors it now to the land Down with all the tides Old cinders are long drowned Fake bones now the pond line Decades soon become lost Stuck in a forgotten time Reflected in this waveless pool The brush its soul is taking Settled in old sediment No longer waters mining