Wednesday, 11 March 2015

Perranporth poem

Now that St Piran's oratory chapel in the dunes of Perranporth has been re-excavated this poem may be a bit out of date! I shall have to think of a new verse or two to add to it when all the work is completed. Be sure to watch Songs of Praise on 22nd March.


Under the sand of a Perranporth dune
Lies an ancient church, a relic, a ruin.
Ma eglos coth dadn an treth,
Dadn an treth en Perranporth.

Magor ew, ancledhys gen tewyn,
Remenat Sent Piran dhort Wordhen.
Built long ago by the Irish saint Cieron,
Who came to our shores and became our St Piran.

The yellow beach is washed by waves.
By those same waves was Piran saved.
Golhys gen todnow ew an treth melin,
An keth todnow a sawyas Piran.

War coracal crohen po men melin,
‘Jei dhegas Piran dh’agan gladn.
A leather coracle or millstone bore
The wave-washed Piran to our shore.

Among the waves, cathedrals fair
Of water arching through the air.
En-mesk an todnow,  eglosyow teg
A waregow dowr war-tü ha’n nev.

Ma marhogyon todnow war aga dowlin,
O pejy dhe voas degys pecar ha Piran.
While on their knees, wave riders pray
Like Piran, to be carried through the spray.

Long years ago the old stones fell.
Never again will we rebuild that chapel.
Nanj ew lies bledhen an menow a godhas.
Nevra namoy na vedh ’jei derevys.

Bes keniver termyn ma codha an dowr
An mor  a’n towl en  vosow a-wortha.
But every time a wave arch falls

The force of the sea throws up new walls.

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