The Tree-Man

THE TREE-MAN
Y Gwialwr

I made a tryst, by my troth
With she who never tells truth,
In sylvan house, strewn with vines,
I await her there in vain.

A house I built, for my witch,
Of leaves, then set fruitless watch,
Overgrown my oak-tree grove,
Lapped by lakes, a living grave.
In summertime, I like to trust
Her wilful ways to keep the tryst:
Upon each branch, buds will break,
Midsummer on the brink
Of dawning. I am blessed:
Twenty summers I can boast
Without once, as I live,
Having lied regarding love:
How? I'm silent. But how sharp
Her lies -- alas, she won't shut up!
I spoke, yet she paid no heed,
Acting like she had not heard.

I first made tryst with Madam
When the dust was made Adam;
I have waited five long lives,
Face wrapped with the hedgerow leaves,
Parched by sun, drenched by rain,
No man living knows such pain:
There are trees, great-girthed, that grow
Perforce above me. Frost, snow
Have barked my skin, rough and raw
As rind of lowland's withered haw --
'A tree-man', so they say, 'No jest,
Or some poor saint put to test.
Gwernabwy's eagle; stone clutcher,
Is not so old; no creature
Waits as long. No Stag giving counsel
Nor Cilgwri's ancient Ousel.
Llyn Llyw's Salmon was small fry;
Cwm Cawlwyd's owl too young to fly.'

Know, girl, love grows from my girth
Like Aaron's rod thrust in the earth,
And when I lie down, I shall root
In my own grave. A quickened shoot
Cannot be buried in the mould,
Though I'm gnarled and grim and old.
Whet a knife and cut them stark:
Her initials in my bark.
Engrave her picture where I lie,
Since I love, and cannot die.

- Attributed to Dafydd ap Gwilym; paraphrased by Giles Watson. Dafydd's authorship has been questioned, but the rich allusiveness of this poem certainly bears his trademarks: especially the manner in which references to the Old Testament are blended with folkloric motifs of more obviously pagan origin. The references to the creation of Adam and to Aaron's rod (Numbers 17), are balanced by a string of comparative hyperboles emphasising the length of the poet's waiting for his love. In Culhwch and Olwen, a tale from the Mabinogion, King Arthur's knights seek the whereabouts of Mabon son of Modron. Gwrhyr, the Interpreter of Tongues, speaks in turn to each of the Oldest Animals, enquiring as to Mabon's whereabouts. The Ousel of Cilgwri tells him that once there was a smith's anvil in the field, and the Ousel has been smashing snails and whetting his bill on it ever since, so that it is now worn to the size of a nut, but he has never heard of Mabon. The Stag of Redynvre says that an oak sapling has grown old, died, and worn into a stump in his lifetime, but he has never heard of Mabon. The Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd says that he has lived to see three forests grow on the glen that is his home, and has seen all three uprooted, but he has never heard of Mabon. The Eagle of Gwern Abwy once perched on a rock which his talons have now worn to a pebble, but he has never heard of Mabon. Finally, the Eagle leads Gwrhyr to the Salmon of Llyn Llyw, apparently the oldest creature on earth, and only he knows where Mabon is imprisoned. I have attempted to iron out an apparent inconsistency: early on, the poet claims to have lived only for twenty summers, but he later implies that his tryst with his beloved took place in antiquity. No doubt the latter is a deliberate exaggeration, but I have chosen to suggest instead that the poet (long since transformed into a tree) has been silent for twenty years because his trunk has fallen and is now growing recumbent. I have never seen any analysis of this poem in discussions of the "Green Man", but whilst the poet's tone is clearly tongue-in-cheek, it is difficult to dismiss the idea that foliate carvings or illuminations may have played a part in his inspiration.

My painting of the Tree-Man at the beginning of the video is inspired by a favourite willow on the River Ock, Oxfordshire, which appears in the photo immediately following.

Category:

Film & Animation

Tags:

• Dafydd ap Gwilym
• Tree Man
• Green Man
• poem
• poetry
• medieval
• mediaeval

[GilesConradWatson]

Not sure where Dafydd got hold of some LSD in the fourteenth century. Maybe he just inadvertently ate a magic mushroom :o)

[GilesConradWatson]

Thank you for the lovely comment. Yes, I know the poem tree at Wittenham Clumps - in fact, we went to visit it just a couple of months ago. It is rather the worse for wear now, but it's still there. What I particularly like about this poem is the way Dafydd starts with a theme that is almost stereotypical - waiting for a lover - then takes it to almost absurd extremes... and then somewhere along the way, he brings in something so archetypal that it changes the whole tone of the text.

[GilesConradWatson]

Thanks.  I feel the same way about trees, which is perhaps what makes this one of my favourite Dafydd poems.

[GilesConradWatson]

I'll append text to all of the videos when I get around to it. Thanks for watching and commenting; glad you liked it! Yes, that is the challenge of paraphrasing these: to try to replicate in English some of the cadence of the Welsh original. That is ultimately impossible, of course, because no language is more poetic than Welsh, but I can have fun trying!

[ZactusAvenger]

LSD is a hell of a drug

[andrewnorris2]

Wonderful, wonderful piece of pure theatre. This is my latest favourite. The story is really extraordinary, distant voices touching the present. how universal and unchanging are these experiences. Are you aware of the Poem Tree on Wittenham Clumps? Not far from Wantage

[3festina]

Thank you ! I do so love trees ,,,,love the gentle hum of life that I feel when I touch them. Your poem was as if one of friends had suddenly been given voice.......

[HerAeolianHarp]

Great to see text, thanks, and a treat to the ear: such wonderful tumbling sounds such as in the first stanza and later, "...I'm gnarled and grim and old." All vigorous words, flowing where they need to. Thanks, too, for making me feel connected to Cymru! :)