Gorffenaf

Un ohonoch, adar cerdd,
  Yw fy ngalon innau,
Pan y cwsg y glaswyrddlwyn
  Uwch ei fil cysgodau;
Pan fo wyneb môr a nef
  Fel pe am y glasaf, -
Gwae aderyn gân cyn pryd,
  Gwae na chân Orffennaf.

Oni waered y fro yn ardd
  Heb yr un diffeithwch?
A phob gardd o fewn y fro
  'N wyllt-dir o bryderthwth?
Fel y glöyn, claf o serch
  Yw fy nghalon innau;
Gwn pa beth yw cael fy nal
  Yn nyrysni'r blodau.

Chwa Gorffennaf ddaw i'm t&375;
  Yn y bore melys,
Gyda neithdar maes a môr
  Ar ei lleithiog wefus;
Onid merch y môr a'r maes
  Yw fy ghalon innau?
Câr fugeilio'r gwenith gwyn,
  Câr gyfeillach tonnau.

One of you, song birds,
  Is my own heart,
When the green grove sleeps
  Above its thousand shadows;
Whenever the face of sea and heaven is
  As if at its bluest, -
Oh for a bird of song before time,
  Oh for the song of July.

Is not the bottom of the vale a garden
  Without any desert?
And every garden within the vale
  A wilderness of beauty?
Like the butterfly, love-sick
  Is my own heart;
I know what it is to get held
  In the tangle of the flowers.

The breath of July comes to my house
  In a sweeet morning,
With the nectar of field and sea
  On its moist lip;
Is not the daughter of the sea and the field
  My own heart?
A lover to tend the white wheat,
  A lover of the friendship of waves.