The Birch Trees

Blessed is the birch in the valley of Gwy Whose branches will fall off one by one, two by two It will remain when there will be a battle in Ardudwy And the lowing together of the cattle about the ford of Mochnwy And spears and shouting at Dyganwy And Edwin bearing sway in Mona And youths pale and light In ruddy clothes commanding them. Blessed is the birch in Pumlumon Which will see when the front of the stage shall be exalted and which will see Franks clad in mail About the hearth food for whelps And monks frequently riding on steeds. Blessed is the birch in the heights of Dinwythy Which will know when there shall be a battle in Ardudwy And spears uplifted around Edrywy And a bridge in the Taw, and another on the Tawy And another, on account of a misfortun, on the banks of the Gwy And the artificer that will make it, let his name by Garwy; and the principle of Mona have dominion over it. Women will be under the Gynt, and men in affliction Happier than I is he who will welcome The time of Cadwaladyr: a song he may sing!