Cyffes a Chynghor yr Oferddyn

De'wch holl ofer-ddynion afradlon o fryd

(Cyffes, a Chynghor,
yr Oferddyn.)
De'wch holl ofer-ddynion,
    afradlon o fryd,
Sy'n caru cwmnaeth,
    a bariaeth y byd;
  Clywch gyffes oferwr,
      ynfydwr wyf fi
  A dreuliais o arian -
      do, raian di di';
Meddaldra fy natur
    mewn trymgur a'm troes,
'Rwy'n dirwyn blinderus -
    dirmygus derm oes,
  Ber einioes, brau yw:
  Dilynais ormodedd o
      faswedd wrth fyw:
Truenus yw cyflwr
    ceg-laith leibiwr gwlych;
A garo fyw'n sobr,
    mewn gwobr mwy gwych;
  Eglurwych y glod;
  A mwy o orfoledd
      yn niwedd y nod.

Pob dyn anystyriol,
    anfuddiol ei fost,
Meddylied pob cyflwr
    hen dermiwr yn dost;
  Nid oes nemawr gysur mwyn
      hoywbur mewn hedd:
  Wrth danfon corph pwdr
      hen bottiwr i'r bedd;
Na nemawr orfoledd drwy
    ryfedd ln drefn,
Pan ddel ad-gyfodiad - derchafiad drachefn,
  Rhyw annhrefn rhy hir,
  A fydd ar ddydd cyfri' -
      'ryw'n ofni ar rai'n wir;
Oferwr myfyriwch - dychwelch da chwi,
Na rodiwch mo'r llwybrau,
    run foddau a myfi,
  Yn wisgi, ddrwg was;
  I'ch tỳnu o'r hynt hno,
      Duw roddo i chwi ras:

Danfonodd Duw tirion arwyddion o wres,
Ac aml wahoddiad o gariad a g'es;
  A minnau'n arferu diystyru'n dost iawn,
  Pob cyngor caredig - nodedig y dawn;
Bwriadu'n barodol draw'n
    siriol droi'n sant,
Ond methu rheoli a
    chospi fy chwant:
  Roedd trachwant mwy trwm;
  Yn croesi rheolau
      rhesymau ryw swm:
Yn awr, gan ystyried,
    'rwy'n gweled y gwall,
Mai drwg yw arferion
    cyfeillion y fall;
  Ond anghall yw dyn;
  Fo'n dilyn hudoliaith
      mewn gweniaith a gwŷn.

Er imi fyw beunydd
    i grefydd yn groes,
Gan ddilyn meddalwch -
    oferwch yn f'oes;
  Mae Duw yn fy arbed
      a'i nodded yn awr,
  Yn digyn o'r nefoedd,
      wiw lysoedd i lawr:
Er imi drosedd,
    rhyfedd 'rwyf fi,
Anfeidrol ffyddlondeb,
    tiriondeb Duw Tri;
  Tosturi sy' 'n 'str;
  Ym mynwes ddymunol -
      ddewisolDduw Ior,
Mae etto i bechadur
    bur gysur i'w gael;
Mae Duw'n rho'i trugaredd -
    ymgeledd i'r gwae
  Gwir afael ffydd gref,
  A saif mewn uniondeb,
      yn wyneb y Nef.
David Thomas (Dafydd Ddu o Eryri) 1759-1822
Corph y Gaingc 1810

Tn [11.11.11.11;11.11.7.11;11.11.7.11.]:
    Y Breuddwyd

(The Confession, and Advice,
of the Good-for-Nothing.)
Come all ye good-for-nothings,
    prodigal of intention,
Who love the company,
    and the greed of the world;
  Hear the confession of a
      good-for-nothing, a fool am I
  Who spent of money -
      yes, a countless multitude;
The softness of my nature
    in a heavy blow I turned,
I am winding up a grievous -
    scornful term of life,
  A short, fragile lifespan it is:
  I followed an excess of
      wantonness while living:
Pitiful is the condition of a
    wet-mouthed swallower of liquid;
Who would love to live soberly,
    in a reward more brilliant;
  Clearly brilliant the esteem;
  And more rejoicing
      at the end of the goal.

Every unheeding man,
    unprofitable his boast,
Let every condition of an old
    drinker be thought sore;
  There is scarcely any gentle,
      vivacious, pure comfort in peace:
  While sending the corrupt body
      of an old drunkard to the grave;
Nor scarcely any rejoicing through
    a wonderful, holy providence,
When resurrection comes - a rising again,
  Some disorder too long,
  That shall be on the day of accounting -
      I fear for those truly;
O waster, contemplate - return ye well,
Nor walk the paths,
    the same ways as I,
  In whisky, an evil servant;
  To draw you from that course,
      may God give you grace:

God sent tender signs of warmth,
And frequent invitations of love he got;
  And I usually disregarding very sorely,
  All loving advice - notable the talent;
Deciding readily yonder cheerfully
    to turn into a saint,
But failing to regulate
    and punish my desire:
  Lust was more heavy;
  Crossing the rules of
      reason by some amount:
Now, considering,
    I am seeing the mistake,
That evil are the usual
    companions of the plague;
  But unwise is man;
  Be he following enchanting words
      in flattery and passion.

Although I have lived daily
    contrary to belief,
By following laxity -
    vanity in my life;
  God is saving me
      and his refuge now,
  Descending from heaven,
      his worthy courts down:
Although I have transgressed,
    I am wondering at,
The immeasurable faithfulness,
    the tenderness of the God of Three;
  Mercy that is a store;
  In the wished-for, desirable -
      breast of God the Lord,
There is yet for a sinner
    pure comfort to be had;
God is giving his mercy -
    succour for the woe
  The true grasp of strong faith,
  That shall stand in uprightness
      in the face of heaven.
tr. 2018 Richard B Gillion

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

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