Mae 'nghalon i cyn drymed

Mae 'nghalon i cyn drymed
  A'r march sy'n dringo'r rhiw,
Wrth geisio bod yn llawen,
  Ni fedraf yn fy myw;
Mae'r esgid fach yn gwasgu
  Mewn man nas gwyddoch chwi,
A llawer gofid meddwl,
  Sy'n torri 'nghalon i.

My heart is as heavy
  As the horse that is climbing the hill,
While trying to be cheerful,
  I cannot for all my life;
The small shoe is squeezing
  In a place you do not know,
And many a sorrowful thought,
  Is breaking breaking my heart.