(according to Welsh legend, yr Wyddfa ‘an eminent high point or burial mound’,
is the resting place of Rhita, the giant slain by Arthur)
They materialise from the mist; their podium itch
drives them in heavy footed droves
on the straitened path to the summit.
And what right have I
to deny them their swift selfie?
– as they crest the top for a moment,
and then descend,
as inconsequential now
as our forebears who scarred this peak in time past…
No-one from my Nain’s family, in their hob-nailed boots
ever stood atop giant Rhita’s cairn,
they just burrowed dourly into his flank,
at Glynrhonwy Quarry
– but the Wyddfa’s tougher than us all…
And in the shackles of my own spare time,
this mountain’s no mere stadium for athletic feats
but a soaring cathedral of the spirit;
and our steps re-echo lightly
with the ones that went before.
And in these lonely retreats
lies the gaunt and primal world
that exalts the soul,
that brings the great mystery near…
Ifor ap Glyn
Bardd Cenedlaethol Cymru | National Poet of Wales
(translated from the Welsh original by the author; poem commissioned for ‘Enaid Eryri’ by Richard Outram and reproduced here by kind permission of the publisher, Gwasg Carreg Gwalch)