Myfyr Mewn Profedigaeth

Mawr boen im' yw'r byd

(Myfyr Mewn Profedigaeth)
  Mawr boen im' yw'r byd,
  Anhydyn o hyd;
Rhyw fr anifyrus,
  Peryglus bob pryd.

  Ei fynych ddrwg foes,
  Mewn tristwch a'm troes,
Im' nemor, yn rhagor,
  O dymor, nid oes.

  Drwy gryfder y gwres,
  Er twymned fo'r tes,
Ceir gweled pob niwed,
  A'r lludded er lles.

  Arwyddwyd o ran,
  Er gobaith i'r gwan,
Y llaw ddaeth a lluoedd
  Ar luoedd i'r lan.

  O, f'enaid na fydd,
  Mewn braw yma'n brudd,
Cei esgyn i'r cysgod
  O'r gafod ar gudd.

  Mae'n awr, arnom ni,
  Bur alwad mewn bri,
Yn galw, O gwyliwch! -
  Dychwelwch, da chwi.

  Mae rhoddwr mor hael,
  Ar gyfer y gwael;
Pwy eto fu'n curo,
  Neu geisio, heb gael?

  O brysia mewn braw,
  I loches ei law,
Ac erfyn am gyfraid
  I'th enaid, na thaw.

  Cei wlad heb un cledd,
  A nofio mewn hedd,
I lonfawr lawenfyd,
  Tir bywyd, trwy'r bedd.

  Y brodyr ryw bryd,
  A gesglir i gyd,
Uwch nwydawl och'neidiau,
  Trigfanau'r drwg fyd.

  I wledd y nef ln,
  Da hedd diwahan,
Arwyddir heb raddau
  I'w geiriau na'r gn.

  Anwyliaid y nef,
  Gwir ffurf ei gorff ef,
Foliannant heb flino,
  Oll yno'n un llef.

Robert Williams (Robert ap Gwilym Ddu) 1766-1850
Gardd Eifion 1841

(Meditating In Bereavement)
  Great pain to me is the world,
  intractable still;
Some distressing sea,
  Dangerous all the time.

  Its frequent bad manners,
  In sadness that I turned,
To me scarcely is there
  Any more of a season left.

  Through the strength of the warmth,
  Although so hot be the haze,
Every harm can be seen,
  Furthering corruption.

  Signalled in part,
  For the sake of hope to the weak,
Was the hand that brought up
  Hosts upon hosts.

  O, my soul do not be
  In terror here sadly,
Thou wilt get to ascend to the shadow
  Hidden from the blight.

  It is time, upon us,
  A pure call in favour,
Calling, O watch ye! -
  Return, I pray you.

  The giver is so generous,
  On behalf of the poor;
Who still was knocking,
  Or seeking, without getting?

  O hurry thou in terror,
  To the refuge of his hand,
And pleading for supply
  For thy soul, be not silent.

  Thou shalt get a land without any sword
  And swim in peace,
To a greatly cheerful joyful world,
  The land of life, through the grave.

  The brothers some time,
  Are to be gathered together,
Above the passionate groans,
  Of the dwellings of the evil world.

  To the feast of holy heaven,
  A good undivided peace,
With no measure being signalled
  To its words or the song.

  The beloved ones of heaven,
  The true form of his body,
They shall praise without tiring,
  All there in one cry.

tr. 2019 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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