Coming Undone

by Mererid Hopwood


Coming Undone

For my shame

I boiled the smalls

and put them neat and clean on the thin line

to dance gently

to the accompaniment of the day.

 

In the squeak of the winch

if I heard a sigh,

I did not pause,

unfurling my flag of proud dignity,

I raised every under-garment up high,

 

And from the East there came nothing

except the rays of the sun to finger them,

before the morning's dry kiss baked them crisp.

 

I did not see the imploring of the distant hands

that had stitched them together,

nor see the thread come undone

before disappearing under rubble dust.

 

I saw only white and proper bargains

hanging

for my shame.

 

In response to RS Thomas 'Two Shirts on a Line' for the Hay Festival, reflecting on Dhaka, spring 2013  

Trans: Tim ap Hywel

Datod

Rhag fy nghywilydd

berwais y dillad mân

a'u gosod yn dwt ac yn lân ar y lein denau

i ddawnsio'n dyner

i gyfeiliant y dydd.

 

Yng ngwich y winsh

os clywais ochenaid,

nid oedais,

codais bob pilyn isaf yn uchel,

a chwifio fy malchder yn faner fyny fry.

 

Ac ni ddôi o'r Dwyrain ddi

ond pelydrau'r haul i'w byseddu,

cyn i gusan sych y bore eu crasu'n grimp.

 

Ni welais ymbil y dwylo pell

fu'n eu pwytho'n dynn,

na gweld yr edau'n datod

cyn diflannu'n dawel, dan lwch rwbel.

 

Ni welais ond bargeinion propor, gwyn

yn crogi

rhag fy nghywilydd i.

 

Cerdd i ymateb i ‘Two Shirts on a Line’ yn nathliadau R. S. Thomas, Gwyl y Gelli, wrth fyfyrio ar Dhaka, Gwanwyn 2013