The name Marloes is most likely derived from the Welsh Moel Rhos, meaning a bleak moor or headland. As this poem imagines our peninsula transported to Greece, I thought I’d try translating “bleak headland” into Greek… The above version (which should be accented, sorry about that) is phonetic; below, my attempt at the Greek script version.
19th July 2022
Not that I will ever fly again;
But no need, this year, to leave here for a hot holiday:
The Mediterranean has come to Marloes.
And, lucky me, this village is now Zoferó Akrotíri
While our bay is turned Aegean –
Though not wine-dark, for even Poseidon
Cannot elevate the sun so it deep-dances vivid indigo.
Across that bluesleepy crinklegreen weave,
The stoned and sainted northern peninsula
Glows in herbscent haze like Asia Minor
Sighted from crusader-castled Rhodes.
Here’s our tide-full cove,
Its winterdark rocks unusually sun-paled
But for ever Pembrokeshire:
Never could they ring metallic, as do Symi’s stones.
Though not so warm,
In some ways better than the Med!
No fear, here, of crevice-crouching spearneedle sea urchins;
And so rare, medusas trailing venomous threads.
I dive and again dive this oxygen clarity,
Eager to memorise plays of Celtic light;
Then
– What rarity, such freely-granted opulence –
To skin-sit in this sail-filling meltemi,
And let its eastern heat bask me dry as I ponder
How to word the capture of this precious…
© Christopher Jessop 2022
