Monday, July 13, 2015

Our Walk in Glan Rastell

View on the way to the valley

Near the bothy is Glan Rastell, a remote valley, inhabited in recent times, but now left only to the rocks and sheep. We had it all to ourselves.  Mystical, and inspiring just a tinge of melancholy, the valley stayed on my mind. I wrote a few lines to describe my impressions.


Kevin disturbs a sheep on the road.





A person living in the area said his parents once lived in this shelter under the rock. There are
also ruins of houses in the valley.


Thoughts in Glan Rastell

The wind whispers the names of those who lived here,
Not long ago. It whispers, too, of those
Who came so many years before.
It whispers of the farmers and their flocks,
The faithful trudging down the muddy track to mass,
And of those in hidden tombs, whose names we never knew,
Of those with ancient gods and ancient ways.
The wind whispers to the water, "Remember them?"
But the water, faithless, does not answer.
The wind whispers to the rock,
"Remember them?"
But the stones, cold, unyielding,
Do not respond.
Nor do the indifferent sheep.
Only I can hear the muffled sounds,
So indistinct,
And wonder who will hear the whispers after me.

1 comment:

  1. Oh God! And I'm an atheist (oh alright, an agnostic)! That is the most beautiful place! That is where I want to live! Stunning is too insipid a word for that magnificent scenery! Just read your poem! Love it!! Just read it again!! It's really, really good!

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