Arany János - Győrei Zsolt (szerk.): The trill of the nightingale (Budapest, 2019)

III - „His voice, once fine and heady, still a grumble deep” - The Bards of Wales (Bernard Adams)

All manner of meat and drink there was That this fine isle can bear;

Many a wine from overseas Foamed and sparkled there.

My lords and gentles! Will none of you Raise his cup to me?

My lords and gentles ... Dogs of Wales, Own you no fealty?

Meat and fish and every dish Delightful to the sense I here perceive, but in yourselves A devilish pretence.

My lords and gentles! Treacherous curs, Will you not drink to me?

Where is a bard to praise my deeds And sing my victory?

Pale of cheek the noble Welsh Looked around; in dread And in fury met their eyes;

Not a word was said,

Conversation ceased forthwith,

Not a breath was heard.

White of head, from near the door Arose an ancient bard.

'Here, O King, is one will sing Thy deeds that so inspire.'

Weapons clashed, the dying gasped,

As he swept the lyre.

'Weapons clash, the dying gasp,

The sun sinks in lakes of gore.

Before the beasts of night a feast Hast thou spread, my lord.

Piled like sheaves at harvest-time Lie thousands put to the sword,

And they that live weep as they glean. This is thy work, my lord.'