Beth yw Cymru i mi? (English / Welsh)

What is Wales to me?
fount of my soul spring
where the mountains roll down to the sea
where the song of an ancient language rolls and sings in the throat of the people
and clog dances across their lips
always bringing a knowing smile
there is no other song than a Welsh song
no other poem than a Welsh one
no one who does not know the land and the language will ever understand

Wales is the land that gives me hope
I leave its rocky shores
and long only to return
to wander its hills and valleys
its craggy slopes
its verdant, sub tropical coasts
to breathe in deep its perfumes

to be in Wales is to be in love
and lust

I long for Wales like I long for each breath
in no other place do I feel at home
no other place makes me weep
when I have to leave the border behind
a great sadness takes me then
and I
a godless man
a faithless man
I wish so hard
that when I die
if there is a heaven
that is is Wales

One especially beautiful summer
on a day not too hot, nor too cold
I drove the narrow lanes
my vision blurred by tears
hedgrows whipping the sides of my hired car
I did not want to leave
I wanted to stay there forever
and I prayed to whatever god may be
that were there a heaven,
it would be here
in this ancient place
with the mountains and the sea
y bwlch a'r môr
the monuments of ancient ancestors built from stone and earth
the language they sang in still clinging to the crags and dales
whatever Wales shall become
when I die
I want that Wales, that moment
with old Mary Jos and te coch
and cigarette smoke
and hay on the salty air
waiting for me

I drove
and cried
and prayed
"I don't know if there is a heaven, but if there is one, I want mine to be here."
I sobbed and weeped till I thought I would drive off the road

for all the darkness
the poverty
the hunger
the cold wood-stoked winters
the rough and hateful hands
the lovelessness
the deprivation
the ugly struggles
y gwacter
of my youth
of my present
and of my tomorrows
if there is any god to grant any favor
I pray he grant me this
take me home
not to the land that gave me birth
amid squalor and privation
but to Wales
where I have felt alive and love
where I felt hopefulness

My confession:
I live only to see Wales again
to stroll ancient shores
and hear my soul's language
all I do, I do to return to Wales
my dying wish, I declare it now:

I want to die with the Welsh language in my ear
I want to be carried into the unknown by Welsh hands
and hearts
I want the nurses to curse my death in Welsh
to imagine them cleaning my wretched remains
all the while swearing in Welsh

they will curse my passing no matter what
for strangers will carry me to the grave
but their sharp tongues in Welsh
will carry me to heaven
in English, I fear, only to oblivion