Текст песни The Shepherd Poet Of Passchendaele - Bryn Terfel , David Childs , Czech Philharmonic Orchestra

Far, far away from home
You now lie in your grave
Silent now that death took your soul
And the poetry within
As you lie, lie in foreign soil
Taken young, you will never see
The mountains and streams
Of your homeland again
And never know what would come to be

No longer will we see the sun's rays
Peeping through the mist in the valleys

Cedwyn, shepherd of the hills
A true bard, your hands
Will no more tend your sheep
Your unseeing eyes so tightly shut
Here you, our poet, fell
Near a black trench instead
Of claiming that noble chair
That awaited you at home

No longer will we hear the sound
Of the harp as the cup held in by Sars