As if heaven fell down in all its perfection,
I stumble on this island in fated dejection,
In a land of beauty seemingly not of this Earth,
Its waters the sacred source of spiritual rebirth.
In legend it has become the island of true love,
To walk upon its shores a blessing from above,
The blossoming island where horses run free,
The dream lived in which we all aspire to be.
A holy sanctuary after being burnt by love's flame,
From centuries lost a Saint's story rose in fame,
Dwynwen rejecting love to God she stayed chaste,
Her lover Maelon tried to seize her in feverish haste.
In rescue an angel with potion turned Maelon to ice,
In sorrow three prayers made with piety her price,
First for Maelon to be free & second she live alone,
Third that all true lovers to one another be known.
On this island a well to love's fate the fish will swim,
And to Dwynwen's worship to the setting sun a hymn,
So if the well's waters boil with the wild horses run,
And if they just sit then your love is over and done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem