To the Vagina
by Gwerful Mechain (1462-1500) - For the Welsh Government
A poem for the queer theory indoctrinators of The Welsh Government
BORN NOT MADE
The vagina cannot be recreated out of a man’s penis. It’s cruel to let anyone believe this is possible. At best the surgeons will fashion something that approximates in appearance. Anyone attempting intercourse with the finished result will simply be prodding at scar tissue. Scar tissue on a man. Men can’t be women, women can’t be men. Trans-ideologues deny and blame and rage and despair, but there’s only one option. Accept the reality. The alternative is brutal. There’s another view on this posted after the poem.
Gwerful Mechain
“Probably the most famous part of her work today is her erotic poetry, especially Cywydd y Cedor ("Poem to the Vagina"), a poem praising the vulva. In it, she upbraids male poets for celebrating so many parts of a woman's body but ignoring "the middle." "Let songs about the quim circulate," she adjures her readers. "Lovely bush, God save it." Snippet from Wikipedia.
Cywydd y Cedor
Pob rhyw brydydd, dydd dioed,
mul frwysg, wladaidd rwysg erioed,
noethi moliant, nis gwrantwyf,
anfeidrol reiol yr wyf,
am gerdd merched y gwledydd
a wnaethant heb ffyniant ffydd
yn anghwbl iawn, ddawn ddiwad,
ar hyd y dydd, rho Duw Dad:
moli gwallt, cwnsallt ceinserch,
a phob cyfryw sy fyw o ferch,
ac obry moli heb wg
yr aeliau uwchlaw'r olwg;
moli hefyd, hyfryd dwf,
foelder dwyfron feddaldwf,
a breichiau gwen, len loywlun,
dylai barch, a dwylaw bun.
Yno o'i brif ddewiniaeth
cyn y nos canu a wnaeth,
Duw er ei radd a'i addef,
diffrwyth wawd o'i dafawd ef:
gadu'r canol heb foliant
a'r plas lle'r enillir plant,
a'r cedor clyd, rhagor claer,
tynerdew, cylch twn eurdaer,
lle carwn i, cywrain iach,
y cedor dan y cadach.
Corff wyd diball ei allu,
cwrt difreg o'r bloneg blu.
Llyma 'ynghred, teg y cedawr,
cylch gweflau ymylau mawr,
pant yw hwy na llwy na llaw,
clawdd i ddal cal ddwy ddwylaw;
cont yno wrth din finffloch,
dabl y gerdd â'i dwbl o goch.
Ac nid arbed, freisged frig,
y gloywsaint, gwyr eglwysig
mewn cyfle iawn, ddawn ddifreg,
myn Beuno, ei deimlo'n deg.
Am hyn o chwaen, gaen gerydd,
y prydyddion sythion sydd,
gadewch heb ffael er cael ced
gerddau cedor i gerdded.
Sawden awdl, sidan ydiw,
sêm fach, len ar gont wen wiw,
lleiniau mewn man ymannerch,
y llwyn sur, llawn yw o serch,
fforest falch iawn, ddawn ddifreg,
ffris ffraill, ffwrwr dwygaill deg,
breisglwyn merch, drud annerch dro,
berth addwyn, Duw'n borth iddoet,
To the Vagina by Gwerful Mechain
Every poet, drunken fool
Thinks he’s just the king of cool,
(Every one is such a boor,
He makes me sick, I’m so demure),
He always declaims fruitless praise
Of all the girls in his male gaze.
He’s at it all day long, by God,
Omitting the best bit, silly sod:
He praises the hair, gown of fine love,
And all the girl’s bits up above,
Even lower down he praises merrily
The eyes which glance so sexily;
Daring more, he extols the lovely shape
Of the soft breasts which leave him all agape,
And the beauty’s arms, bright drape,
Even her perfect hands do not escape.
Then with his finest magic
Before night falls, it’s tragic,
He pays homage to God’s might,
An empty eulogy: it’s not quite right:
For he’s left the girl’s middle unpraised,
That place where children are upraised,
The warm bright quim he does not sing,
That tender, plump, pulsating broken ring,
That’s the place I love, the place I bless,
The hidden quim below the dress.
You female body, you’re strong and fair,
A faultless, fleshy court plumed with hair.
I proclaim that the quim is fine,
Circle of broad-edged lips divine,
It’s a valley, longer than a spoon or hand,
A cwm to hold a penis strong and grand;
A vagina there by the swelling bum,
Two lines of red to song must come.
And the churchmen all, the radiant saints,
When they get the chance, have no restraints,
They never fail their chance to steal,
By Saint Beuno, to give it a good feel.
So I hope you feel well and truly told off,
All you proud male poets, you dare not scoff,
Let songs to the quim grow and thrive
Find their due reward and survive.
For it is silky soft, the sultan of an ode,
A little seam, a curtain on a hole bestowed,
Neat flaps in a place of meeting,
The sour grove, circle of greeting,
Superb forest, faultless gift to squeeze,
Fur for a fine pair of balls, tender frieze,
A girl’s thick glade, it is full of love,
Lovely bush, blessed be it by God above.
From: Gramich, Katie, Orality and Morality: Early Welsh Women’s Poetry, 2005, Cardiff University
“She actively participated in the poetic culture of her day. Many of her surviving poems are examples of Ymrysonau,[1] or poetic or bardic contentions or debates, with contemporaries such as Dafydd Llwyd of Mathafarn, Ieuan Dyfi and Llywelyn ap Gutun.[4]” Wikipedia
https://mydoctor.kaiserpermanente.org/ncal/article/vaginal-dilation-after-vaginoplasty-1290049
