Mae'r adar cynar yn canu, - felus Wiw foliant i'r Iesu; Galwant adeiniog wiwlu, Foreuddydd, ar Ddafydd Ddu. Dyma'r gân, hoywlan yw hi, - gu lawen A glywaf o'r llwyni; Clyw ein llais, a'n adlais ni; - Y Cysgadur, - cais godi! Clyw ddadgan un rhàn yn rhwydd, - Iaith gofus O'th gyfiawn ddyledswydd: Dyro fawl, rasusawl swydd; Diweirglod i dy ARGLWYDD. Ym mangoed, glasgoed y glỳn, - Pregethwr Pur goeth yw'r aderyn; Fe gân glod, hynod yw hyn, Boreugerdd, ar y Brigyn. Minnau, â'm tròm awenydd, - ffaeledig, Ffol ydwyf o BRYDYDD: Rhŷ sŷch, yn fynych a fydd Fy enaid yn EIFIONYDD. Erfyniaf ar NAF, yn fy nydd, - gu nerth Ei gynnorthwy beunydd; I dreulio'n iawn, radlawn rydd Fy einioes yn EIFIONYDD. Pan ddêl oes, byroes i ben, - a dŷnir Dannedd y genfigen; Câf orwedd dan lygredd lèn Mor dawel a 'mrawd OWEN. Af i orwedd at Feirwon, - i gaerau O gyrhaedd gelynion; Tŷf uwch priddlyd fraedllyd, fròn Flodau gwiw lysiau gleision. Ar bèn yr YWEN ir wedd, - o gariad Agorir hiraethgerdd; Yr Adar, ar gynar gerdd, Dysgysant fy mhriodasgedd. Daw'n rhwydd ddistawrwydd ystyriawl, - i'r Bod Neu'r Abwydyn marwawl; Pa ddaear fud, - pwy ddyr fawl Yn eigion Bedd unigawl! Fy enaid, o Dduw cyfiawnaf, - cymmer O'm camwedd afflanaf; Wyt nawddfawr, un nerthfawr Nâf, I dy ddwylaw'r dydd olaf!
David Thomas (Dafydd Ddu o Eryri) 1759-1822 |
The birds are early singing, - sweet Worthy praise to Jesus; A worthy, winged host call In the morning, on Dafydd Ddu. This is the song, vivaciously pure it is, - dearly joyful I hear from groves; Hear our voice, and our echo; - O sleeper, - try to get up! Hear the expression of one part freely, - a mindful Language From thy righteous duty: Render praise, a gracious task; Pure acclaim to the LORD. In shrubs, greenwood and valley, - a Preacher Pure, refined is the bird; He sings praise, remarkable is this, Morning-song, on the Twig. I will implore the MASTER, in my nest, - the dear strength Of his daily help; To spend aright, graciously free My lifespan as ONE FROM EIFION. As for me, with my heavy patience, - failed, Foolish am I of a POET: Too dry, insistently shall be My soul ONE FROM EIFION. When an age, a short age, come to an end - and to be pulled Are the teeth of jealousy; I will get to lie under a curtain of corruption As quiet as my brother OWEN. I will go to lie with the Dead, - to fortresses Out of the reach of enemies; To grow up above an earthy, putrid breast Worthy flowers of green herbs. At the head of the YEW of fresh apprearance - of love To be opened is a lamentation; The Birds, on early music, Teach my nuptial song. Considerable silence will come easily, - to the Being Or the mortal Worm; What mute earth, - who will give praise In the depths of a lonely Grave! My soul, O most righteous God, - take From my most unclean misdeed; Thou art greatly protective, one greatly strong Chief, Into thy hands on the last day! tr. 2016 Richard B Gillion |