Bedd y Dyn Tylawd

Is yr ywen ddu gangenog

Bedd y Dyn Tylawd
Is yr ywen ddu, gangenog,
   Twmpath gwyrddlas gwyd ei ben,
Fel i dderbyn o goronog
  Addurniadau gwlith y nen;
Llawer troed yn anystyriol
  Yn ei fathru'n fynych gawd,
Gan ysigo'i laswellt siriol -
  Dyna fedd y dyn tylawd.

Swyddwyr cyflog gweithdy'r undeb
  A'i hebryngodd ef i'w fedd;
Wrth droi'r briddell ar ei wyneb
  Nid oedd deigryn ar un wedd;
'Nol hir frwydro a thrafferthion,
  Daeth i ben ei ingol rawd;
Noddfa dawel rhag angenion
  Ydyw'r bedd i'r dyn tylawd.

Mae'r gareg arw a'r ddwy lythyren
  Dorodd rhyw anghelfydd law
Gydchwareuai ag e'n fachgen,
  Wedi hollti'n ddwy gerllaw;
A phan ddelo Sul y Blodau,
  Ni fydd yno gār na brawd,
Yn rhoi gwyrdd-ddail a phwysiau
  Ar lwm fedd y dyn tylawd.

Ar sedd fynor nid yw'r Awen
  Yn galaru uwch ei lwch;
A chyn hir drwy'r las dywarchen
  Aradr amser dyn ei swch -
Un a'r llawr
    fydd yr orphwysfa,
  Anghof drosti dyn ei hawd;
Ond er hyny angel wylia
  Ddaear bedd y dyn tylawd.
John Jones (Ioan Emlyn) 1818-73

[Mesur: 8787D]

The Poor Man's Grave
Below the black, branched yew,
  A green mound raises its head,
As if to receive of the crowning
  Adornments of the dew of heaven;
Many an unheeding foot
  Trampling it often it got,
Bruising its cheerful green grass -
  That is the grave of the poor man.

Salaried officers of the union workhouse
  Escorted him to his grave;
Turning the soil on his face
  There was no tear on any countenance;
After long battling with troubles,
  His agonising course came to an end;
A quiet refuge from wants
  Is the grave to a poor man.

The rough stone and the two letters
  Which some unskilled hand cut
Which would play together with him as a boy,
  Having been split into two nearby;
And when Palm Sunday comes,
  There will be neither lover nor brother,
Putting green foliage and weight
  On the bare grave of the poor man.

On the marble seat there is no Muse
  Mourning above his dust;
And before long through the green turf
  The plough of time will draw its blade -
The same as the ground
    will be the resting place,
  Oblivion across it will draw its sword;
But despite this an angel will watch over
  The earth of the grave of the poor man.
tr. 2016 Richard B Gillion

The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh (corrections welcome). A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.', an English translation by 'tr.'

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