Debussy – Borderless

Ogof
Twm Siôn Cati
  Cave
  is the place
  the outlaw graced
with his face
and the remainder of
  his ruffianly presence when
  he was hiding
  from the drab forces of Law
  and Order.

Ogof is the Welsh word for Cave,
a word never heard
over the border in England,
and Twm Siôn Cati
is hardly known outside his native
land. I understand
why: he is obscure and there’s no
use being in great
haste to fashion poems about him.

He was a Robin Hood character, I
guess you can say.
If you trudge the wrong way on the
road between
Rhandirmwyn and Soar y Mynydd
you might even
end up as his involuntary guest and
be forced to relax on his stone sofa
while staring down
the barrel of his old flintlock pistol.

He might whistle
through his teeth a merry tune,
but no melodies later
than the 17th Century.
  Twm Siôn Cati
  never listened to the music
  of Erik Satie
  or Debussy or Shostakovich.
How could he?
and how can you expect him to
be familiar with their melodies
  if it’s true he lived
  so long ago in a damp cave?

You have slipped
  back through time
and that’s the reason
  if not the rhyme
for the mess you find yourself in
now: wave farewell
to modern comforts,
be resigned to a tougher life and
  I think you’ll find
  solace in the challenge.

Unlike Robin Hood,
Twm Siôn Cati never did
and never would
rob the rich to give to the poor.
  He robbed the rich
  and the poor as well to give
  to himself,
but needless to say, 
on any given day he preferred
  wealthy victims.

Enjoy
your stay in
Ogof
Twm Siôn Cati
  Cave.
Be brave: the scenery is
wonderful,
there are blackberries in
early autumn,
  the colourful rocks,
  odd as socks
  glisten in the rain.

You ought to remain sane
if you accept
your fate: no pain, no gain:
  no coin to toss,
  no loss.
Twm Siôn Cati has adopted
you as his heir,
you must prepare to follow
  in his footsteps
  and become a troglodyte,
  a night bandit plaguing
the heights of
the region: he planned it this
way all along.

Rhys Hughes has lived in many countries. He graduated as an engineer but currently works as a tutor of mathematics. Since his first book was published in 1995 he has had fifty other books published and his work has been translated into ten languages.

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A Concert on the Bay

A CONCERT ON THE BAY Debussy’s Dialogue of Wind and Sea Flows from the shell. The water in the bay reflects the setting sun. A lone seagull soars smoothly above the crowd. The dialogue is muted, the wind a gentle breeze. The low rumble of the engine on an outgoing fishing boat blends with the timpani. We are transported from the realities of the world. The music and the bay have achieved their raison d’état. There are two harps, Two! Everyone watches the big screens. The conductor becomes physically involved – emotionally. His hair flows with the excitement of the music. The air is chilled, moist, flowing across the audience. A Sea-doo race ends; there is a clear winner. The music, the magic ends with an explosion of applause. We leave changed slightly, better. The dialogue encompasses much more than the wind and sea.