Amser

Dynion i farw ŷm i gyd,
  Pan dreulio hyd ein blwyddau;
Try'n dyddiau a'n hwythnosau glân,
  A'n horiau'n fân fynydau.

Mae haf a gauaf, yn eu pryd,
  Mewn trefn, a hyd cymersur,
A phob anadliad dan eu rhi',
  A'n misoedd wedi 'mesur.

Pob tip o'r einioes, dan y rhod,
  Ar ben ei arfod hirfaith,
A ymgudd dan dragwyddol glo
  Na wellir mono eilwaith.

Amser a gyrch yn mlaen, er neb,
  I ddifodoldeb hollol, -
Ac felly myn'd o bryd i bryd
  Mae dull y byd presenol.

O! am gael gorphwys yn ein rhan,
  Pan êl y cyfan heibio;
A thragwyddoldeb lyncu'n ol
  Bob peth amserol iddo.

Men bound to die are we all,
  When the length of our years is spent;
Our days and our holy weeks,
  And our hours turn into small minutes.

Summer and winter, in their time, are
  In order, with a proper length,
And every breath in their number,
  And our months are measured.

Every tick of the lifespan, under heaven,
  At the end of its long sweep,
Shall hide under an eternal lock
  It is not to be seen again.

Time shall march onward, despite everyone,
  To a complete extinction, -
And thus going from instant to instant
  Is the way of the present world.

O to get rest as our portion,
  When the whole passes by!
And eternity swallows back
  Every temporal thing to itself.