Pa beth a wnaf fi yma'n byw?

1,2,3;  Rhan I - 1,3,4.
(Cuddiaist dy wyneb a bûm helbulus)
Pa beth a wnaf fi yma'n byw,
Y'mhell, y'mhell oddiwrth fy Nuw,
Mewn gwledydd sychion drwg eu rhyw,
  Lle dianc pob mwynhau?
Os llewyrch bach o oleuni cawn,
Ar ol cymylau duon iawn,
Daw tymestl eilwaith
    cyn prydnawn,
  O ddychryn, aeth, a gwae.

Mae ngofid yn yr ardal hon,
Yn dod y'mlaen o dòn i dòn,
'Does ond gruddfanau dan fy mron,
  'Dwy'n gwneuthur dim lleshâd;
Y'mysg dyeithriaid ëon hŷ,
Gelynion duon, creulon, crŷ,
Oddiwrth y sawl a garaf fi,
  Y'mhell o dŷ fy Nhad.

O gwna i mi wylio bob yr awr,
Rwy'n rhodio dan beryglon mawr,
Ac nid oes dim ond llewyrch gwawr,
  Dy wyneb gwridog gwyn;
A wna i mi deithio'r anial nos,
'Rhyd llwybr cyfyng
    angeu'r groes,
Myfyrio am dy farwol loes,
  Ac hefyd canu hyn.

Pan ymddattodo'r tŷ o bridd,
A'm henaid i ddihengu'n rhydd
O'r holl gadwynau cryfion sydd
  Yn dal yn awr yn dŷn,
Caf deimlo pleser uwch y rhod
Na ddaeth i galon dyn erioed
I feddwl, nac i gredu, fod
  Y fath fwynhâd a hyn.
William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [886D]:
Beulah (alaw Gymreig)
Darowain (alaw Gymreig)
Llanddewi (Gesanbuch Walther)
Sardinia (<1869)

gwelir:
  Rhan II - Chwi chwi ffynonnau'r bywyd gwir
  Dy gariad Iesu sydd yn awr
  Pan ymddattodo'r tŷ o bridd

(Thou didst hide thy face and we were troubled)
What shall I do here living,
Far, far away from my God,
In dry lands of an evil kind,
  Where all enjoyments escape?
If I got a small gleam of light,
After very black clouds,
A tempest will come a second time
    before afternoon,
  From terror, grief and woe.

My trouble is in this region,
Coming forward from wave to wave,
There is only groaning under my breast,
  I am doing nothing of any advantage;
Amongst fearless, bold strangers,
Black, cruel, strong enemies,
From those whom I love,
  Far from my Father's house.

O make me watch every hour,
I am wandering under great perils,
And there is only the gleam of dawn,
  Thy ruddy, white face;
And make me travel the desert by night,
Along the narrow path
    of the death of the cross,
Meditate on thy throes of death,
  And also sing this.

When the house of soil falls apart
And my soul escapes readily,
From all the great chains which are
  Holding now tightly:
I will get to feel pleasure above the sky,
That it never yet came into a man's heart,
To think, or to believe, that there be
  Such enjoyment as this.
tr. 2015 Richard B Gillion

The middle column is a literal translation of the Welsh. A Welsh translation is identified by the abbreviation 'cyf.' (emulation by 'efel.'), an English translation by 'tr.'

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