Wales Book of the Year shortlist review: Mae Bywyd Yma by Guto Dafydd & photographs by Dafydd Nant

Mae Bywyd Yma by Guto Dafydd is one of the three shortlisted books in the poetry category for this year’s Welsh language Wales Book of the Year Award.

Ant Evans

There’s no place like home, to borrow a line from the Wizard of Oz. What we have here is a collaboration between two friends; one a poet (Guto Dafydd) the other a photographer (Dafydd Nant).

Together, they endeavour to take the reader on a journey around their home area of Pen Llyn. A guided tour and a half awaits!

We begin in Trefor. Here, we read about lessons learned during those formative years.

Lessons which we all must learn and which stick with us throughout life (reviewers translations included here):

“…Dysgais fod golygfa’n gynhaliaeth, ond yn annigonol
heb waith a chymdeithas. Dysgais pryd i roi
swcwr i deyrn a phryd i’w sarnu. Dysgais fod Annibynwyr
a Batus, Presbyteriaid ac Eglwys, a gwanhaniaeth rhyngddynt…”

“…I learned that views are nourishment, but are insufficient
without work and community. I learned when to give
a welcome to arrogant people, and when to disregard them. I learned there are Congregationalists, Baptists, Presbyterians and the Church, and a difference between them…”

and perhaps that most important of lessons

“Dysgais sut i rannu teyrngarwch, heb rannu fawr ddim arall…”

“I learned how to share loyalty, without sharing much else…”

Life

The accompanying photograph depicts a rather rainy looking Trefor, without a soul to be seen, save for a solitary dog walker in a black raincoat, hood up, with their four legged companion trotting beside them.

Is there a common thread running through this collection, aside from Llyn itself, of course? The volume’s title translated “There is Life Here” says it all.

Life and death twist and turn throughout the pages here.

Another common theme is that the names of the poems themselves consist mainly of the names of locations or landmarks “Nant Gwrtheyrn” “Enlli” “Aberdaron” “Prom Pwllheli” etc.

There is one deviation however, “Bad Achub” Lifeboat:

“Nid gwaredu, dim ond gohirio,
yw’r dasg sy’n gyrru’r cwch i’r dwr:
dim ond dros dro y mae’n achub neb.
Mentra’r arwyr i’r tonnau garw
am fod y fath beth a marw sal,
cynamserol, creulon. Thal hi ddim
i adael neb fynd ar leilo tua’r gorwel,
ar gerrynt penderfynol I farw’n unig;
thal hi ddim i neb orfod cicio a sblasio
a sgrechian, anadlu dwr ac yna stopio.

Mae yna’r fath beth, felly, a marw da:
Pan fo bywyd yn gae wedi’i ‘redig,
Does dim drwg mynd mewn i’r ty
am baned a bath a syrthio i gysgu
ar gysur sofa, yng nghwmni teulu.
Pan fo’r ffordd ymlaen yn dyllog
gan gystudd, yn droellog gan boen,
mae’n braf gweld terfyn arni.

O’r blaen, fe wyddem batrwm
geni, byw, dirywio, darfod:
roedd gennym addewid o oed, cyfamod
y came fynd fesul cam i fedd prydlon.
Ac yna, wrth i un gwanwyn gael ei eni,
gyda’r briallu a’r wyn, daeth arswyd:
pla nad oedd yn parchu’r patrwm, angau
nad oedd yn aros am yr awr a’r dydd;
breuder bywyd yn llaw llywodraeth,
a ninnau’n cuddio
rhag yr haint a oedd am rwygo’r contract”

“Not eliminating, but rather postponing
Is the task which sends the boat to the water;
It only ever saves anyone temporarily
Heroes venture into the rough waves
Because there is such a thing as a bad death,
Untimely, cruel. It won’t do
To let anyone go on a lilo towards the horizon
On a determined current to die alone;
It won’t do for anyone to kick and splash
And scream, breathing in water, before stopping.

There is such a thing, then, as a good death:
When life is a ploughed field
There’s no harm in going to the house for a cuppa, a bath and falling asleep
On the comfort of a sofa, surrounded by family
When the road ahead is riddled with
the holes of illness, the twists and turns of pain
it’s a relief to see the end.

Before, we knew the score,
Birth, life, deteriorate, death:
We had the promise of age a covenant
That we could go step by step to a timely grave.
And then, at the birth of one spring,
With the primroses and the lambs came horror
A plague which didn’t respect the pattern, grief
Which didn’t wait for the hour and the day
The precariousness of life in the hand of government
And we were hiding,
From the malady which sought to rip up the contract.”

Light

Covid then, casts its shadow here too, more than once.

Though not as starkly as in Bad Achub. “Dringo Garn Fadryn efo’r plant” (Climbing Garn Fadryn with the children) shines a brighter light on lockdown:

“Awn drwy giatiau agored gwlad sy dan glo.
Ar y llwybr, dangos i’r plant sut i gamu
dros gerrig a mwd, sut i faglu heb frifo;
dal eu dwylo iddyn nhw
gael glanio’n lan o’u codwm,
wrth i’w traed dod i nabod y mynydd.

Ar y copa, rhaffu enwau bythynnod,
penrhynau, tyddynod, bryniau:
enwi’r tir eto ac eto y neu clustiau,
nes bod eu pennau bach yn llawn
o iaith y rhai fu’n gweithio’r caeau hyn,
yn caru a chartrefu yn y tai.

Ar y ffordd i lawr, a ninnau’n straffaglu
maen nhw’n neidio a gwibio fel geifr;
yn canu am liwiau’r enfys dan awyr lwyd;
yn pigo blodau’r grug i’w mam.

Does dim dal be gofian nhw
o’r dyddiau neilltuol hyn
ond boed iddyn nhw wybod hyn:

does dim cariad fel eu gweld yn prifio;
does dim gobaith fel eu dysgu be ‘di be;
does dim bendith fel byw yn Llyn.”

“We go through the open gates of a country in lockdown
On the path, showing the children how to step
Over stones and mud, how to fall without injury
Holding their hands so they
Can land cleanly after their trip
As their feet get to know the mountain.

At the summit, I string together the names of cottages
Peninsulas, smallholdings, hills:
Naming the land again and again in their ears,
Until their little heads are full
Of the language of those who had worked these fields
Loving and living in the houses.

On the way down, as we struggle,
They’re running and rushing about like goats
Singing about the colours of the rainbow under a grey sky
Picking the flowers of the heather for their mother

There’s no telling what they’ll remember,
Of these peculiar days
But may they know this

There’s no love like seeing them grow,
There’s no hope like teaching them what’s what,
There’s no blessing like living in Llyn.”

Humour

There’s humour to be had here too. Courtesy of Cwrs Golff (Golf Course), this reader finds he has something in common with the poet, summed up neatly in the final stanza:

“Mae bywyd yn werthfawr (a hynny i gyd)
Ond os gwelir fi’n llusgo clybiau
O’r ti i’r byncar, o’r garw i’r grin
i’r bar, i baldaruo am byrdis
ac eryrod dan baneli pren
a lluniau cyn-gapteiniaid,
Tafler finnau I’r mor.”

“Life is valuable (and all that)
But if I’m ever seen dragging clubs
From the tee to the bunker, from the rough to the green
To the bar to blather on about birdies
And eagles under wooden panels
And photos of former captains,
Throw me into the sea.”

Can you guess which poem in this collection I have a soft spot for?

Vivid images

As mentioned earlier, accompanying the poems in this volume, which by themselves paint vivid images of the subject matter, are stunning photographs.

Included throughout, these add an additional dimension to the readers enjoyment whilst aiding our transportation to the various locations around Llyn included here.

Brilliant as they all are, if I had to choose a favourite photograph, it would have to be the photo which accompanies the poem “Mynydd Mawr”. The view across to Enlli is truly stunning.

You can tell that Guto Dafydd and Dafydd Nant took great pleasure in weaving poetry and photography together to create this truly spectacular volume.

As the title reminds us, there is life here, and the reader is immersed in it from beginning to end.

Mae Bywyd Yma by Guto Dafydd & photographs by Dafydd Nant is published by GwasgCarreg Gwalch. It is available from all good bookshops.

Vote for the Wales Book of the Year 2024 People’s Choice Award.