Precious to me
is my sunny Welsh shore.
I am leaving it not
until death parts
everything from me.
For you, their father,
there are new
vast spaces where your five
children's faces are not seen.
But here by the strand
where racing tides break, I am
faithful to flows and
the time slow seasons take.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem