i wynedd les mères están llorando;
les corps de sus fils yacían debajo
un soleil vigilant, quién mirará sobre
ellos hasta les galáns crecen comme hierbas
de la terre.

in gwynedd the mothers cry;
the bodies of their sons lie beneath a
vigilant sun, who will watch over them until
gentlemen grow like weeds from the earth.


1282 was a terrible year for Wales, so I wrote poetry about it. The mothers cry because their sons were killed in battle against the English, and the sun will stand guard over their graves until other generations come, if that explains anything.