Regarding mother languages, I have spent my life abroad among many who by the choices of their parents, either in response to the vagaries of history, or to their own often misguided striving for something better, find themselves deprived of any language to call their mother tongue. Though dispossessed initially of my motherland, because I kept her language, she remained my home, my only home.
Never merely content to adopt English as a surrogate, accompanied by its imperialistic, classist chauvinism, so contrary to the Welsh of my foremothers, my forefathers, I clung first to French, using it as a springboard for launching me into the study of other languages, and other families of languages, entirely divergent.
Missing my mother language, as Welsh speakers outside of Wales do not abound, I sought the embrace of any language that would have me, in exchange for my pledge of lifelong devotion. Multi-lingual and cultural, now, quadri-continental and trans-oceanic, too, I am yet, regardless of my citizenship, without a country, other than the one of my heritage, the one of my blood, Wales.
Wedi fy ngeni yng Nghymru, cefais fy ngeni yn freintiedig; nid gyda llwy arian yn fy ngheg, ond gyda cherddoriaeth yn fy nghalon, a barddoniaeth yn fy enaid.
À la recherche de licornes. 