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Author: langbot
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English[en]
I translated the foreword poem during the first lockdown, whilst furloughed and enjoying reading in the garden under the spring sunshine. I bought a hard copy of the book and escaped to an earlier time, this, in a way, being the theme of Heine's words. The foreword especially turned in my head. They made me think of walking in my favourite places on Bodmin Moor and Caradon Hill. The stanzas talked with my soul. In the same way as Heine, I wanted to be on the mountain, looking at the world extending ahead and dropping from my feet. The feeling of true freedom as the wind dances in my hair and against my skin.
Cornish[kw]
My a dreylyas bardhonek an raglavar y'n kensa alhwedhans, ha my furloughyes hag owth omlowenhe redya y'n lowarth yn howlsplann brav an gwenton. My a brenas kopi kales a'n lyver ha skapya dhe dermyn kyns, ha hemm yw testen geryow Heine. Yn arbennek an geryow a'n raglavar a dreylyas y'm penn vy. I a wrug vy dhe dybi a-dro dhe gerdhes yn tylleryow ow holon war Woon Brenn ha Bre Garn. An gwersyow a gowsis gans ow enev. Y'n keth fordh ha Heine, my a vynnas bos war an mena, ow kweles an bys owth ystyn a-hys ha droppya a'm treys. An omglowans a rydhsys pur ha'n gwyns ow tonsya y'm blew hag erbynn ow hneus.