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Medieval Welsh storytelling for the modern world.
Showing posts with label languages. Show all posts
The week goes on... weather's a little warmer, which is good, and looks like staying mild and dry through the weekend. I am starting to apply myself to Old Irish, using David Stifter's Sengoidelc, in order to harvest some bits for use in The Druid's Son. I don't think I'll ever get the pronunciation right, but on the other hand I'm not planning to speak it! Some of the words look familiar from my attempt at Scots Gaelic a few years back, and others show their common Celtic roots with Welsh. I suspect that to Gwernin it would have sounded like the "Old Tongue" - British before it evolved into Primitive Welsh.
Nothing new on the wildlife front, but here's another picture from last weekend:
This shot took some waiting until he decided I was harmless - or at least worth tolerating for the sake of the peanuts!
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Labels: druid's son, Irish, languages, photography, wildlife, writing
Dydd Gwener, diolch i'r Duwiau. Dim ond wythnos o bedwar dyddiau i fi, ond yn digon hir beth bynnag. Roedd y penwythnos diwethaf yn rhy brysur - digwyddiadau SCA Dydd Sadwrn a Dydd Sul, a dim ond Dydd Llun i ysgrifennu. Mwy o amser y penwythnos hon, gobeithio. Dw i wedi dechrau yr ail bennod Mab y Derwydd.
Fel ddweudes i'n gynnar, bydd y dosbarthiadau Cymraeg yn dechrau y chweched Mis Hydref. Byddwn i'n athro unwaith eto. Dw i ddim yn siwr faint o fyfyriwr bydd gynnon ni. Welen ni'n fuan. Yn y cyfamser, bydd y Cymdeithas Cymreig Colorado yn cynnal noswaith am Owain Glyndwr Nos Sadwrn y 3dd Hydref, a byddwn i yno gan copiau fy llyfrau. Mae mwy o wybodaeth yma.
Friday, thank the Gods. Only a four day week for me, but long enough anyway. Last weekend was too busy - SCA events Saturday and Sunday, and only Monday for writing. More time this weekend, hopefully. I've started the second chapter of The Druid's Son.
As I said earlier, Welsh classes will start on the 6th of October. I'll be a teacher again. I'm not sure how many students we'll have. We'll see soon. In the meantime, the Colorado Welsh Society will be holding an evening about Owain Glyndwr on Saturday the 3rd of October, and I'll be there with copies of my books. There's more information here.
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Labels: druid's son, languages, Welsh, writing
Welsh language classes in Denver
The Colorado Welsh Society's Welsh language classes will be starting again soon - see the class blog for more details. Cymru am byth!
Y wythnos hon mi gwrddodd yr dosbarthiadau canolradd a uwchraddol (lefel 2 a lefel 3) fel un, oherwydd nid allodd yr athro lefel 2, Elis Owens, mynychu. Yn hytrach na fy mhynd o’r un grwp i’r llall, mi benderfynais i gyfuno y ddau mewn “dosbarth i gyd”. Mi ddarparais i daflen a roedd yn cynnwys sawl testun ymddiddanol a ffurfiau brawddegol, ac mi es i trwyddo yn gyntaf gan yr canolraddau. Wedyn, mi dreuliais i ryw prid gan y grwp i gyd, yn holi cwestiynau i pobl yng Nhgymraeg, ac yn cael atebion yn yr un iaith – pethau siml fel "beth gwneuthoch chi dros y penwythnos?" ac "sut roedd y tywydd ddoe?" Wedi roedd pawb yn barod, ymrannais i’r dosbarth mewn dau grwp ac gadawais i iddyn nhw mynd ati gan gael sqyrsiau gan eu gilydd, tra symudais i’n ôl ac i ffordd yn gwrando ac ryw pryd yn cydroddi.
Roedd pawb bod yn debyg i gael hwyl, a dw i’n meddwl bod ceisio helpu ei gilydd yn siared a deall torrodd i lawr yn tipyn bach y nervusrwydd sy’n ymosod pawb sy’n canolpwnt y sylw pan mae’r athro yn holi cwestiwn iddyn nhw. Awgrymodd un o’r canolraddau wedi hyn a ddylwn i trefnu y grypiau tro nesaf fel bod y pobl yn leai brofiadol sy’n cael holi y cwestiyniau, a’r lleill sy’n rhaid iddyn nhw deall ac ateb – syniad da, dw i’n meddwl!
This week the intermediate and advanced classes (level 2 and level 3) met as one, since the level 2 teacher, Elis Owens, wasn't able to attend. Rather than my bouncing back and forth between the two groups, I decided to combine them in a "dosbarth i gyd" - a class of the whole. I provided a handout containing some conversational topics and sentence templates, and went through it first with the intermediates. Then I spent some time with the whole group, asking questions to individuals in Welsh and getting answers in the same language - simple things like "what did you do over the weekend?" and "how was the weather yesterday?" After everyone was warmed up, I split the class into two groups (each containing intermediates and beginners) and let them get on with having Welsh conversations among themselves, while I moved back and forth monitoring and sometimes contributing.
Everyone seemed to have a good time, and I think trying to help each other speak and understand broke down somewhat the nervousness that attacks anyone who's the focus of attention when the teacher asks them a question. One of the intermediates suggested afterwards that I set the groups up next time so it's the less experienced people who get to ask the questions, and the others who have to understand what they've heard and answer -- a good idea, I think!
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Mae'r haf wedi mynd. Y bore 'ma pan mi ddes i allan o'r ty, welais i bod ni wedi cael rhew trwm dros nos. Roeddwn i wedi gorcuddio y tomatoes olaf a'r squash, ond wn i ddim os ydyn nhw wedi goroesi. Does dim ots, yn wir, oherwydd bydd mwy o rew yn cyrraedd Dydd Sadwrn - ac efallai, tipyn o eira! Mae'r hydref yma nawr!
(Dim ysgrifenu dros y Sul, dim ond garddio. Gobeithio, mi fydda' i'n gwneud mwy y penwythnos nesa'.)
Summer's gone. This morning when I came out of the house, I saw we'd had a heavy frost overnight. I had covered the last tomatoes and the squash, but I don't know if they have survived. It doesn't matter, really, because more frost will arrive Saturday - and possibly a bit of snow! Autumn is here now!
(No writing this weekend, only gardening. Hopefully I'll get more done next weekend.)
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Labels: gardening, languages, seasons, Welsh, writing
Lots of this and that going on. Last weekend I finished another chapter of The Ash Spear, which makes 16 so far of an estimated 30 - figures on the sidebar as usual. Also Welsh classes started this week, and as a result I've been busy setting up a mailing list group and a blog for the class.
The garden is winding down, and I think we will probably have frost Sunday or Monday night - time to pick the rest of the tomatoes, protect the squash, and start moving semi-hardly plants into the cold frame for the winter. Then comes the garden clean-up... In and around this activity I hope to be writing more this weekend - the story is moving into a new phase, which should be interesting.
Labels: ash spear, gardening, languages, Welsh, writing
Nol i'r Cymraeg - Back to Welsh!
Mae'r hydref yma, a mae'r dosbarthiadau Cymraeg yn ail-dechrau yn fuan. Mae'r Colorado Welsh Society (CWS) yn eu cynnig nhw bob blwydden. Eleni bydd tri lefel gyda ni - dechreuwyr, canolradd, ac uwchraddol. Bydd y dosbarthiadau yn dechrau am yr 30ed Medi.
Autumn is here, and Welsh classes are starting again soon. The Colorado Welsh Society (CWS) holds them every year. This year we will have three levels - beginners, intermediate, and advanced. The classes will start on September 30.
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As I mentioned in May, Cwrs Cymraeg Cymdeithas Madog has an eisteddfod - a literary competition in Welsh - at the end of the course each year. The winner of the upper division competition wins the Chair - Cadair Eisteddfod Cymdeithas Madog. It's a traveling prize - he or she has to give it back in time for next year's course - but one much desired. The chair itself stands 14.5 inches tall. Its design is based on that of the chair given at the National Eisteddfod of Wales in 1988, and it was made by the same craftsman, using a piece of oak from a house over 600 years old. This year I won it for the first time, using the bardic name "Hebog". My entry is shown below, followed by a fairly literal translation. There are a few errors in the Welsh, but I have let them stand for now. The round thing in front of the chair in the picture is an engraved piece of slate from North Wales, which carries the name of the course and the year; and this I get to keep.
“A fo ben, bid bont.” Gwerthfawr
Nid i ŵr gwan bach ydyw
gario llwyth sydd bod yn lyw.
Dros ei gorff ei hun cerddant
a’i waed goch torriff eu chwant.
Brenin uchel un dydd daeth
o Iwerddon, gan arfaeth
trwy briodi morwyn lan
codi bont dros môr llydan.
Bendigeidfran gan ei chwaer
gwnaeth y bont – bu’n bensaer.
Branwen brydferth byddai’n gref,
gan ei gŵr elai adref.
Ond yr oedd hi’n aberth prid:
Yn eu pont yr oedd gwendid.
Bron â collwyd holl eu hedd:
daeth Efnissien i’r gwledd.
Torrodd sylfaen wan eu gwaith,
ond nid oeddynt heb obaith.
Am atgeweirio’r bont sâl
talodd Brân iddo iawndal.
Aeth heb bryder dros y don
y pâr priod i Iwerddon.
Ond parhâi, wedi’r hen ddig,
A pwy oedd dechreuodd sôn
am y tal yr ebolion?
A pwy cymhellodd y gred
rhaid gosbi gwraig ddiniwed?
Ef yr oedd gan gelwydd hon
Ond ys bai i’r brenin ffôl
am ei farn gamsyniol.
Bob dydd cosbodd cigydd cas
Branwen gan bonclust diflas.
Dagrau hallt ar ei boch fain
syrthient yn boeth heb udain.
Cloesid pyrth yr wlad i gyd;
bu dim dianc o’i thristlyd.
Dan y dŵr heb lef heb don
cwympasai’r bont yn ddison.
Wedi amser, neges daeth
i Brân am ei chaethwasaeth.
I’r orllewin hirbell las
bu’n ei feddwl – llifoedd gwaed
talai am boen ei gydwaed.
Nid oedd nawr bont – croesi’r môr,
bai’n rhaid iddo bod blaenor,
a cherdded trwy’r dyfnder mawr
yn tynnu’i longau llwythfawr.
Gwelodd Gwyddelod ei ben
gan ddial ar ei dalcen.
Rhedodd pob un gan y gair
i’w brenin ar ei gadair.
Dweudodd wrthynt torri i lawr
pont dros afon llifeirfawr.
Byddent yn ddiogel iawn
er eu bod yn anghyfiawn.
A sut dweud yr hanes ddu
o Iwerddon a’i tyngu?
Pan daeth nifer Brân i’r min
bu dim obaith i’w gwerin.
Tân, cleddef, angau mawr,
Dim ond saith y gwŷr ddaeth n’ôl
ar ei llwybr hen amdrist:
pump o wraig i lenwi gwlad;
Gwelodd Branwen beth y bo;
y môr hwn nad all pontio.
Torrodd chalon cryf yn dwy;
ddaeth ei ysbryd yn ddrudwy.
Gan waed byw coch fel offrwm
gwyd pont, nid maen ar faen trwm.
“A fo ben, bid bont,” meddai
yr hen gawr; yr oedd heb fai.
Aeth Brân yn bont yn lawen:
daeth adref dim ond ei ben.
“He who would lead, let him be a bridge.” Valuable
are the words of the old giant.
Not for a small weak man it is
to carry the burden of being a leader.
Over his own body they will walk
and his red blood will slake their thirst.
A high king one day came
through marrying a pure maiden
to build a bridge over a wide sea.
Brân the Blessed with his sister
made the bridge – he was chief builder.
Beautiful Branwen would be strong,
with her husband she would go home.
But she was a costly sacrifice:
in their bridge there was a weakness.
Almost lost was all their peace:
Efnissien came to the feast.
He broke the weak foundation of their work,
but they were not without hope.
To repair the sick bridge
Without worries, over the wave
the married pair went to Ireland.
But there persisted, because of that discord,
deep unseen cracks [in the bridge].
Who was it began the rumor
about the payment of the colts?
Who was it compelled the belief
that it was necessary to punish an innocent woman?
He it was who with this lie
broke the realm of Ireland.
But there is blame for the foolish king
because of his mistaken judgment.
Every day a hateful butcher punished
Branwen with a nasty ear-box.
Salt tears on her thin cheek
fell warmly without wailing.
All the ports of the land were closed;
there was no escape from her sorrow.
Under the water, without cry, without wave,
the bridge collapsed soundlessly.
After a time, a message came
to Brân about her slavery.
To the far blue west
he looked, and a blood price
was in his thinking – floods of blood
would pay for his blood relative’s pain.
There was no bridge now – to cross the sea
he would have to be the first-goer,
and walk through the great depths
pulling his heavy-laden boats.
The Irish saw his head
with vengeance on his brow.
Everyone ran with the word
to their king on his chair.
He told them to break down
the bridge over the great-flowing river.
They would be very safe
although they were in bad faith.
How to tell the dark tale
of Ireland and her fate?
When Brân’s army came to the brink
there was no hope for common folk.
Fire, sword, great death,
a huge red disaster.
Only seven men came back
from their blood-flowing battling.
Sad Ireland set out
on her ancient woeful journey:
five women to fill a land;
Branwen saw what would be;
this sea she could not bridge.
Her strong heart broke in two,
her spirit became a starling.
With living red blood as an offering
a bridge is raised, not stone on heavy stone.
“He who would be head, let him be a bridge,” said
the old giant; he was blameless.
Brân became a bridge gladly;
Only his head came home.
Posted by G R Grove at 9:11 AM 5 comments: Links to this post
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Labels: chair, cymdeithas madog, Cymraeg, eisteddfod, languages, poetry, Welsh
Thursday, May 8, 2008
In the midst of writing another chapter of The Ash Spear, I've been diverted by a new game. The topic for the upper level competition at Cymdeithas Madog's July Welsh course just came out (click on the link and scroll to the bottom of the page to see what I'm talking about).
Briefly, for 31 years now CM has been holding a one-week language class every July somewhere in North America (except for 2000, when we had it in Wales as a special millennial treat!). At the end of the week there's a class eisteddfod (literary competition), subdivided into three levels, the topics to be announced at the beginning of the week. For the last few years, however, they're started to announce the topics for the upper division a couple of months in advance, to allow us the chance to do better work. This year's upper division topic is "Pontydd" ("Bridges") - a minimum of 350 words in either prose or poetry. And of course I had to choose poetry... you see where the title of this piece comes from?
If the result is passable, I'll share it here after the class. In the meantime, I'm having fun.
Posted by G R Grove at 2:37 PM No comments: Links to this post
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Labels: languages, poetry, Welsh
Thursday, March 13, 2008
A few links for the linguistically inclined, from "The Exvulsion of the Blatant Beast". First, a couple of fascinating posts from a while back on the evolution of the Celtic languages: here and here (I would have linked to these sooner, but the background color on the site has been ... strange ... lately, and I couldn't stand to look at it long enough to find the links again).
Then, for the really ambitious (also courtesy of "Beast"): Early Indo-European Online. No Old Welsh, unfortunately... but then modern Welsh is keeping me busy enough at the moment.
More on that later, though.
Posted by G R Grove at 9:02 AM 2 comments: Links to this post
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Labels: Irish, languages, Welsh
Monday, March 3, 2008
About that trip to Arizona...
Here's a bilingual piece about my trip to Arizona last month.
Rhyfeloedd y Seren yn yr Anialwch – yn y LLaid!
Roedd 6500 ohonon ni fan hyn, a roedd hi’n bwrw glaw.
Roedden ni wedi dod sawl cannoed neu filoedd o fillteroedd, o undeg naw o teyrnasoedd, o bob cornel y Byd Gwybyddus. Roedd gynnon ni amryw miloedd o babell, pebyll fawr a phebyll fach, pebyll gwynion a duon, cochion a gleision, a nawr pebyll gwlybion. Yn hapus, roedd y rhan fwyaf ohohyn nhw yn sych tu mewn eto – gweddol sych, o leiaf.
Doedden ni ddim yng Nghumru, doedden ni ddim hyd yn oed yn Glastonbury. Roedden ni yn yr anialwch Arizona, rhwng Phoenix a Tucson, ym fis Chwefror, a roedd hi’r digwyddiad ail-fwyaf y SCA – Estella War, neu “Rhyfel Seren” yng Nghymraeg. Cafodd y digwyddiad ei henw yn wreithiol gan gael ei ddal ym Mharc Mynydd Estrella, ond mae o wedi tyfu yn rhy fawr am y Parc, ac mae’n gael ei ddal heddiw ar ferm alffalffa organaidd yn yr anialwch. Mae’n ddim yn rhyfel yn union, yn wir – mae “rhyfel” yn enw SCA am digwyddiad fawr gan frwydrau rhwng bobl o ddau neu mwy teyrnasoedd. Ond mae fwy na ymladd wrth ryfel SCA – mae popeth sy’n gallu gael ei weld mewn eisteddfod, a llawer mwy hefyd. Dw i’n mynd i weld hen cyfeillion, i ganu fy ngherddau a thraethu fy chwedlau, ac i siopa. Ambell waith i werthu llyfrau eto!
Dechreuoedd y wythnos yn dda, gan tywyll braf – dyddiau cynnes a nosau oer. Ond am Nos Iau dechreuoedd hi bwrw glaw. Roedd hi’n parhau trwy y nos, ac yn ysbeidiol trwy Ddyn Gwener. Wedyn, Nos Gwener, ailddechreuoedd hi yn ddifri. Roedd y ffyrdd i gyd wedi troi i laid – llaid brown, trwchus, gludiog, a dwfn. Roedd ceir yn gael ei lynu ynddo fo, a roedd pobl yn ei wisgo hyd eu penllinau. Roedd Nos Gwener yn hir, yn wlyb, ac yn oer.
Ond Dydd Sadwrn aeth y cymylau’n araf – yn araf iawn - i ffordd. Roedd Nos Sadwrn yn glir ac yn oer, gan lleuad amgrom – nos ardderchog i ganu dan y sêr. A roedd Dydd Sul yn ddydd dda, yn heulog ond dim yn boeth, diwedd da i wythnos dim yn drwg – oherwydd mae llaid dim yn laid, wedi’r cyfan, ac all gael ei olchi o bobl a phebyll, ond bydd cofion da’n parhau.
Byddwn ni’n mynd yn ôl blwydden nesaf.
Star Wars in the Desert – in the Mud!
6500 of us were there, and it was raining.
We had come some hundreds or thousands of miles, from nineteen kingdoms, from every corner of the Known World. We had several thousand tents, big tents and little tents, white tents and black ones, red ones and blue ones, and now muddy wet tents. Fortunately, the larger part of them them were still dry inside – fairly dry, at least.
We weren’t in Wales, we weren’t even in Glastonbury. We were in the Arizona desert, between Phoenix and Tucson, in February, and it was the second-largest event of the SCA – Estrella War, or “Star War” in Welsh. The event got its name originally from being held in Estrella Mountain Park, but it has grown too big for the Park, and today is held on an organic alfalfa farm in the desert. It’s not a war exactly, in truth – “war” is a SCA name for a large event with battles between people from two or more kingdoms. But there is more than fighting at an SCA war – there is everything that can be seen in an eisteddfod, and much more as well. I go to see old friends, to sing my songs and tell my stories, and to shop. Sometimes to sell books as well!
The week began well, with fine weather – warm dayes and cold nights. But on Thursday night it started to rain. It continued through the night, and intermittently through Friday. Then, Friday night, it began again seriously. All the roads had turned to mud – brown, thick, sticky and deep mud. Cars were getting stuck in it, and people were wearing it to their knees. Friday night was long, wet, and cold.
But Saturday the clouds went slowly – very slowly – away. Saturday night was clear and cold, with a gibbous moon – an excellent night to sing under the stars. And Sunday was a good day, sunny but not hot, a good end to a not bad week – because mud is only mud, after all, and can be washed from people and tents, but good memories last.
We’ll go back next year.
Posted by G R Grove at 12:44 PM No comments: Links to this post
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Labels: languages, SCA, Welsh
Saturday, March 1, 2008
More on learning Welsh
I'll be posting another bilingual piece soon. Currently I'm working hard on my Welsh, looking forward to Cymdeithas Madog's course this summer. Also I'm trying to get back in the flow of writing after the disruption of Estrella War.
Why work on improving my Welsh in order to attend a Welsh language course? It does sound kind of counter-intuitive, doesn't it? Well, for two reasons. First, I'm the kind of person who doesn't start the term paper until the due date heaves into view over the calendar horizon. So having a fixed date to aim for - "I want to improve this, this, and this by such-and-such a date" - helps motivate me. Secondly, this will be my eighth trip to Cwrs Cymraeg, and in four of my previous Cyrsiau I've been in the top level (originally level six, now level seven). I love the challenge of that level, but I know to fully benefit from it my spoken Welsh needs to be as good as I can get it. So I rejoined the local Colorado Welsh Society class here in Denver last fall, and I've been working weekly - if not daily - on my Welsh. Sometimes it feels like patching a leaky boat - as soon as I fix one problem, I become aware of two more. But that's life - and language learning.
More later - back to work.
Posted by G R Grove at 8:59 AM 3 comments: Links to this post
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Friday, February 8, 2008
A lot of wind here this week, although mostly cold wind. A week or so back, though, we had a lot of warm south-west wind, and I wrote a piece about it for Welsh class.
Mae hi’n wyntog iawn heddiw. Gwynt cryf yw e, sy’n chwythu o’r de-gorllewin. Gwynt gwyllt sy’n udain yn y coed, ac yn crynu’u canghennau. Gwynt enfawr sy’n ruthro dros y myneddoed, yn rhuo dros y bryniau a’r cymoedd, yn gwaeddu dros y gwastadeddau. Gwynt cadarn sy’n gwthio’r cwmylau bratiog ymlaen. Gwynt cynnes sy’n toddi’r hên iâ a’r eira oddi wrth y wlad.
Nid gwynt y gwanwyn yw e, ond gwynt sy’n rhedeg o’r flaen y storm, gwynt negeswr, gwynt sy’n addo mwy o dywydd oer. Dim ond blas y gwanwyn yw e’n hôli i ni o’r de pell twyn heddiw. Yfory daw’r gaeaf oer yn ôl.
It's very windy today. It's a strong wind, that blows from the south-west. A wild wild that howls in the trees, and shakes their branches. A huge wind that rushes across the mountains, roaring over the hills and the valleys, shouting across the plains. A strong wind that pushes the ragged clouds along. A warm wind that breaks the old ice and snow from the land.
It's not a spring wind, but a wind that runs before the storm, a messager wind, a wind that promises more cold weather. It brings us only a taste of spring from the warm distant south today. Tomorrow cold winter will come back.
Posted by G R Grove at 12:17 PM No comments: Links to this post
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Labels: languages, weather, Welsh
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thoughts on Learning Welsh
Fionnchú left some interesting questions on yesterday's post. I answered him there, but I thought I'd put some of that commentary on top, too, and expand a bit on it.
Practice essays: He comments: "Since I try similar practice essays in my bumbling Irish, I wonder how you find such exercises? It's hard to 'make' myself attempt to compose as if thinking for a phrase or two (at best) in broken Irish rather than writing the English down and translating backwards, but it's the only way to wrap one's mind into the other language's 'tracks.'"
My comments: I am currently trying to do more of these pieces. I think it's valuable as an additional step beyond starting to think in the language, in that writing it down lets you try to get all the details (mutations etc) right in what you were just thinking. Writing in English first somewhat defeats the purpose. The trick, I think, is to write about something your active vocabulary almost covers, so you can manage that first coherent thinking step. I mostly mentally "wrote" this one on my way to work that morning (fortunately the traffic was light!) then wrote it down and improved it. The difficulty of course is getting your vocabulary up to that level in the first place; particularly for someone living in North America, this requires continual work and revision to reach and stay at that level.
On learning Welsh for the Gaelic speaker, he comments: "I wonder if you could recommend for a learner of Irish which dialect of Welsh might be easier to grasp. I have not found any advice for what may be admittedly a very limited demographic of students! My hunch based on history leans southward."
My comments: That's an interesting question. I think it partly depends on what you plan to do with the Welsh. For reading purposes there are not a lot of differences between North and South Wales other than the varied forms of the verb "to be", the affirmative marker mi/fe, masculine third person (f)o/(f)e, and a few matters of vocabulary. So if you want to read the news on BBC Cymru, for example, the Hugo book or equivalent should cover the ground for you. Once you start talking, of course, it's more complicated. That's when you find out the North and South are broad generalizations, with local variations in each.
On a broader note, I was interested to find both how similar and how different Welsh and Gaelic are. The "bones" of the languages - the way they deal with a variety of constructions - clearly show their close relationship, but the basic vocabulary is more different than I expected, even for very simple things like "mother" and "father", or numbers from one to ten. A fascinating comparison.
If you want a taste of Welsh, and a chance to ask language questions of some excellent teachers, a good resource is the Cymdeithas Madog one-week intensive course, held every summer in July somewhere in North America. This year's course is in Indianola, Iowa, just south of Des Moines, on July 13-20. I highly recommend it!
Posted by G R Grove at 9:47 AM 2 comments: Links to this post
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Labels: Gaelic, languages, Welsh
Friday, June 22, 2007
...because I've been writing instead. I'm getting close to the end of Hawk - 83% complete according to my planning spreadsheet - and felt the need of a couple of long weekends in order to build up momentum, so I took today off. Fortunately, I have plenty of annual leave stockpiled and an understanding boss, and so far it's been worth it.
Old English, btw, is fun - I'm finally getting some use out of all that German I took in college!
Have a good weekend, all.
Posted by G R Grove at 7:12 PM No comments: Links to this post
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He was born for a reason... Now available on amazon.com
Essays on the Welsh language
Essays on Scots Gaelic
Taliesin and Aneirin - Christian Bards or Pagan?
Dwygelli - Celtic Song and Stories
My discussion thread on LibraryThing
Colorado Welsh Society Welsh class blog
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Books by G. R. Grove: The Storyteller series.
The first book in the series. Fifteen-year-old Gwernin sets off on a journey around 6th century Wales, earning his way as a storyteller. Maybe, one day, he will be a real bard...
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Read sample chapters or get the e-book at Smashwords.com
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The second book in the series. Bardic apprentice Gwernin and his friend Neirin mab Dwywei are sent on a diplomatic mission to the North of Britain. But some of the natives aren't too friendly...
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The third book in the series. In 6th century Wales the ash spear was a symbol of warfare and of manhood, but it also stood for awen, the poetic inspiration of the bards...
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And the next book in the series...
Journeyman bard Gwernin Storyteller accompanies a Welsh princess to Ireland for her wedding. But other members of the party have their own objectives... Set five years after The Ash Spear, this will be the 4th book in the Storyteller series, and the beginning of a new trilogy. Scheduled for publication in late 2015.
My published poetry series so far includes King Arthur's Raid on Hell and Pryderi's Pigs. Coming soon: Storyteller Songs, a collection of poetry and prose from the first three books of the Storyteller series.
King Arthur's Raid on Hell and other poems
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Read selections or get the e-book at Smashwords.com
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Pryderi's Pigs and other poems
Read reviews at LibraryThing.com
Read selections or get the e-book at Smashwords.com
Get the physical book at Amazon.com
Read selections or get the e-book at Smashwords.com
Get the physical book at Lulu
Some of my travel photos on Flickr