THE FINAL MINUTES.(Poem)

 
   The end was dreadful. Inside, a dam burst 
   and blood was everywhere. Out of her mouth 
   came torrents of words da yw dant 
   i atal tafod, gogoniannau'r Tad 
   in scarlet flowers--yn Abercuawg 
   yd ganant gogau ... --the blood was black, 
   full of filth, a well that amazed us 
   with its idioms--bola'n holi, ble mae 'ngheg?-- 
   and always fertile, yes no pwdin llo, 
   and psalms were gathering in her viscera 
   and gushing out of her, proverbs, coined words, 
   the names of plants, seven kinds of woodpecker, 
   dragonfly, mountain-ash, michaelmas daisy, 
   then disgusting pus, and lost terms 
   like gwelltor and rhychor, her vomiting a road 
   leading away from her, a mighty army 
   abandoning its dwellings in the fortress 
   of her breath gwyr a aeth Gatraeth. 
   And after the crisis, there was nothing to be done 
   but watch her die, as the saliva and sweat 
   of words poured out like ants--padell pen-glin, 
   Anghydffurfiaeth, clefyd y paill, 
   and in spite of our efforts, in the grey of dawn 
   the haemorrhage ended, her lips were ...