By Dafydd ap Gwilym
Translated by Glyn Jones
Gracing the tide-warmth, this seagull,
The snow-semblanced, moon-matcher,
The sun-shard and sea-gauntlet
Floating, the immaculate loveliness.
The feathered one, fishfed, the swift-proud,
Is buoyant, breasting the combers.
Sea-lily, fly to this anchor to me,
Perch your webs on my hand.
You nun among ripples, habited
Brilliant as paper-work, come.
Girl-glorified you shall be, pandered to,
Gaining that castle mass, her fortalice.
Scout them out, seagull, those glowing battlements,
Reconnoitre her, the Eigr-complexioned.
Repeat my pleas, my citations, go
Girlward, gull, where I ache to be chosen.
She solus, pluck up courage, accost her,
Stress your finesse to the fastidious one;
Use honeyed diplomacy, hinting
I cannot remain extant without her.
I worship her, every particle worships!
Look, friends, not old Merlin, hot-hearted,
Not Taliesin the bright-browed, beheld
The superior of this one in loveliness.
Cypress-shapely, but derisive beneath
Her tangled crop of copper, gull,
O, when you eye all Christendom's
Loveliest cheek—this girl will bring
Annihilation upon me, should your answer
Sound, gull, no relenting note.
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At 8 a.m. we were visited by the company that treated our bedbugs, complete with bug-sniffing dog, to make sure all the bugs and their eggs were gone. Let's just say that the dog signaled that it had found something on the left side of the bed and my Friday the 13th only got worse from there. At least, with Maddy moving into a new place with three friends tomorow, we can sleep in Daniel's room instead of breaking our backs on the sleep sofa. We were going to go to a play tonight but did laundry instead, ha! And now I'm watching Versailles and wishing I was in Ballard, where we saw this mother seagull trying to fledge her babies:
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