Hiraeth of a Modern Celt

Upon the green hills of Cymru I stand arrested by the veiw of cryptic sea and ancient shore that stood ten thousand years before they met my callow eye and will remain for many more long after I die I'm solemn above the briny stew with thoughts of kin I never knew fishing the sea, mining the coal or mining the depths of a poet's soul A nation's buried history revived once more because it knows the blood that flows through me Blood that fed this fertile soil with the Celtic tears and toil of Warriors dead b'neath the peat that pads the soles of anglish feet the true Princes of Wales rule no more upon this shore except in children's tales The epic song of Arthur's quest or Madoc's journey somewhere west stories of the Mabinogion or family tales of distant kin who fought so hard, but failed to keep their ancient birthright so to distant lands they sailed Centuries pass, now here I stand a stranger in this native land welcomed by the foe of yore that chased my people from this shore leaving me a world apart from the Cymru pulsing through my blood and beating in my heart