Cwyn Cariad

F'annwyl ferch, delw'm serch,
    clyw annerch clwy' enaid,
Troist yn ddu 'r cariad cu,
    a chanu'n ochenaid.
A oedd un llaw drwy'r dref draw
    i nharaw'n annhirion?
Yn wir dy wg dagrau ddwg
    i'r golwg o'r galon,
Oni chaf hedd, af i'm bedd
    i orwedd yn wirion.

P'le mae'r gred, gofus ged,
    adduned oedd annwyl?
Ai si a siom
        yr amod drom
    unasom ryw noswyl?
P'le mae'r drem, gel gwawr gem,
    a luniem dan lwynydd?
Torrai'n syn
        swyn y llyn,
    y delyn, a'r dolydd:
Yn iach i'th wedd,
        mi wela' 'medd,
    wan agwedd, yn agor;
Dywed di, fy mun, i mi,
    a wyli ar f'elor?

Pan weli sail y bedd,
        a'r dail
    ar adail mor howydeg,
Ac uwch y tir ysgrif hir
    o'r gwir ar y garreg,
Mai d'achos di, greulon gri,
    fu gwelwi'r fau galon,
Ai dyma'r pryd daw gynta' i gyd
    iaith hyfryd o'th ddwyfron?
Gorchwyl gwan rhoi llef
        drwy'r llan,
    troi'r fan yn afonydd;
Rhy hwyr serch, - felly, ferch,
    i'm llannerch bydd llonydd.

My beloved girl, image of my affection,
    hear the address of a wounded soul,
Thou didst turn black the dear love,
    and singing into groaning.
Was there one hand through yonder town
    to strike me harshly?
Truly thy frown brings tears
    to the sight of the heart,
Unless I get peace, I shall go to my grave
    to lie helplessly.

Where is the belief, a memorable boon,
    of a vow that was dear?
Was whisper and disappointment
        the heavy contract        
    that we united on some eve?
Where is the view, the gem of hidden dawn,
    that we drew under groves?
Suddenly was breaking
        the charm of the lake,
    the harp, and the meadows:
Farewell to thy countenance,
        I shall see my grave,
    a weak aspect, opening;
Tell thou, my darling, to me,
    wilt thou watch over my bier?

When thou seest the base of the grave,
        and the foliage
    on a bower so gay and fair,
And above the ground a long inscription
    of the truth on the stone,
That because of thee, a cruel cry,
    my heart failed,
Is that when first of all shall come
    delightful language from thy breast?
A weak tast to give a cry
        throughout the churchyard,
    to turn the place into rivers;
Affection too late - thus, girl,
    to my glade shall be tranquility.