Poem by Cymro Ap Arthan

Nos Mallt (Night Curse)

Twilight comes, fog rolling, creeping along, part of the ground
Shifting, crawling over the land filled with sorrow and chill
I look down; murkiness embraces my feet squeezes out my breath
I feel icy, grey incomplete, will I die before my next breath

I walk further down this path of death, wishing it were not mine
Watching this pall of Manwolaeth weaving, knitting through the trees
It rises higher as I take each step, now reaching past my knees
And a deep chill overwhelms me as it seeps into my bones

walk as if my feet were lead, steps shortened like my breath
I exhale upon this sea of white, which would shroud my heart this night
Hush, I hear the baying of the dead, is this Cwn Annwn’s savage pack
Are they seeking out my final walk along this sea of loss

They’re strengthened by a silver moon, trees like shadows of the haar
Casting strange forms no mortal could upon this whitened doom
Moulding spells over the land as only the God Arawn might
In terror, I struggle, on and on, I walk through this…

Night falling, fog reflects this pale moons lantern shine
Gleaming, now as if to ease my journey to the other shore
Hush, quiet, can I hear it? Does what I fear stream now across the woodland floor
Frightening everything that lives, from man to fallow deer

Annwn, is hunting with his pack, the spirit of deaths abroad
He’s walking, striding through the realm chasing a soul tonight
To follow him home to a place where only darkness prowls
I stop; heart screaming, frozen as sweat drips down my spine

Their howling is too close; I see the hounds not distant now
White with ears of red, hurdling the mist, they seem to vanish, then appear ears glowing in the dark as beacons do
For the Cwn Annwn are on the loose, all dread this very night
Demise by Awawn will drive them on, excited in the hunt

God Awawn is strong in bringing death, does Mallt-Y-Nos,
The hag ride by his side
All I need now is to take my last breath as she longs to be,
his bride
The pack scream, barking shrilly as one, as they smell deaths awful trail
am frightened, is my soul about to depart, am I other world bound?

They are close, I hold my breath, stone still, Nos Mallt has come
But the fearsome hounded crash past me, their bound for another, place
At their passing, I see my soul is it not the one they seek
I know they are hunt another, who lives in these forest lands
Threshing, tearing into a croft through walls as if they were not there

Through, the mist a scream, a young woman’s voice ‘Oh No’ she shrieks
As seeing her loved one fall, opening her arms as to ease his last breath
However here’s a lesson to us all within this terrible tale
Perhaps one we should all recall
“Always pay the rent to god and goddess all on their day and fear not no more”

Cymro Ap Arthan
Callan Mai 2014