Ar Hyd y Nos

A little bit of Welsh here. An old song, still sung in these times.
The Welsh are Celts, having come to Britain before the Romans, originally from central Europe, loosely defined "tribes", that wandered from Switzerland to Russia , from Turkey to Afghanistan. Traders, farmers, pagans; never too inclined towards conquering the world, but preferring to sing, dance and hunt when hunger calls.
The song is for someone I have never met, a lady known as Louise.
Louise recently "lost" her mam.
But you know, in Celtic mythology, like the Christians, Jews and Moslems, there is an afterlife, "The Void", the celestial dimension where all spirits commune, where the souls of all those departed amass to become the angels and choirs of the Gods.

The language is old, the sentiment universal.

Sung by Meinir Gwilym with Anwen Jones, two women who obviously love the old language.


Holl amrantau’r sêr ddywedant
Ar hyd y nos.
Dyma’r ffordd i fro gogoniant
Ar hyd y nos.
Golau arall yw tywyllwch,
I arddangos gwir brydferthwch,
Teulu’r nefoedd mewn tawelwch
Ar hyd y nos.

O mor siriol gwena seren
Ar hyd y nos,
I oleuo’i chwaer ddaearen
Ar hyd y nos,
Nos yw henaint pan ddaw cystudd,
Ond i harddu dyn a’i hwyrddydd
Rhown ein golau gwan i’n gilydd
Ar hyd y nos.

In English:
All the star’s eyelids say,
All through the night,
“This is the way to the valley of glory,”
All through the night.
Darkness is another kind of light
To show true beauty,
The Heavenly family in peace,
All through the night.

O how cheerful smiles the star,
All through the night,
To light its earthly sister,
All through the night.
Old age is night when affliction comes,
But to beautify man in his late days,
We’ll put our weak light together,
All through the night.

Peace.