Another poet introduced to me via death notice. I could not read Dic Jones if I wanted, unless he’s been brought over into English (I can’t find a trace of it if so). But I was able to find this fascinating video of the poet reciting his poem “Y Gwanwyn” (“To Spring,” I believe), apparently on his farm at Blaenannerch, near Cardigan. It’s wonderful hearing the moist Welsh words lovingly uttered under a sky full of clouds, upon a field of green, by an elder poet leaning comfortably back against a tractor wheel. Selah!
Lyle, thanks so much for the link to Dic Jones's poem. And for reminding me about Floyce Alexander. Not long after I mentioned him, I thought—hey, there's this Web thing you use every day, so…—long story short I did find both <i>American Fires</i> (Lynx House) and <i>The Ice House</i> (Red Dragonfly), which I read with immense pleasure. They're on my stack of books to review here. I
Found a poem, in English, by Dic Jones, <a href="http://www.versedaily.org/deadlamb.shtml" rel="nofollow">here</a>. No translator is named at the above page, however based on notes in the author page, <a href="http://www.versedaily.org/aboutdicjones.shtml" rel="nofollow">here</a>, the English version may be by Jones himself.<br /><br />I found your blog earlier this summer, and have been dropping
Beautiful–thank you. My Welsh heritage, about which I know very little, is still something which I feel very much with me and of which I am very proud. I love the music in his hands in that shot–I wonder what that line means? This is one of those inspirations to which I will return again and again.
Joe, thanks for this lovely dose of mental health. Inspiring snapshot of the man in that obituary. And to see the ghost of my old dog Spike at the beginning of the video — it certainly bodes well for the rest of the day…