Darfydded dydd darfydded nôs

(Daeth amser i'r adar ganu)
Darfydded dydd, darfydded nôs,
  Fel mynyd bach o'r awr;
Tra f'wyf yn caru a rhoi 'mhwys,
  Ar fynwes f'Arglwydd mawr.

Dymunwn yma dreulio'm hoes,
  O fore hyd prydnawn,
Lle cawn i wylo cariad pur,
  Yn ddagrau melys iawn.

Fe ddaeth y Iubil werthfawr lawn,
  Ar ol och'neidio'n hir;
Ac mi ges weled hyfryd ran,
  O'r Baradwysaidd dir.

Mae durtur yr efengyl fwyn,
  Yn galw bro a bryn;
Doed torf aneirif
    tu a'r wlad,
  Gyd â'r awelon hyn.

Fe wnaeth ei babell yn ein plith,
  A'i bresenoldeb sy'
Yn troi pob cystudd
    chwerw loes
  Yn hyfryd hêdd i ni.

Boed dyoddefiadau pur y groes,
  Fel olew i'm iachâu:
Griddfanau dyfnion angeu loes,
  I'm rhoddi i lawenhâu.

               - - - - -

Darfydded dydd, darfydded nôs,
  Fel mynyd bach o'r awr;
Tra f'wyf yn caru a rhoi 'mhwys,
  Ar fynwes f'Arglwydd mawr.

Fe'm siommwyd gan bleserau'r llawr,
  Fe'm twyllwyd gan bob un;
Ffowch bob eilunod, rhois ffarwel
  I ddaear ac i ddyn.

Ni throf fy wyneb byth yn ôl,
  I 'mofyn pleser gau;
Ond mi a gerddaf tu a'r wlad
  Sy a'i phleser i barhau.

Eisteddais dan ei gysgod ef,
  A'i ffrwyth oedd felus iawn;
Ac yma treuliwn ddyddiau f'oes,
  Fyth fyth yn ddedwydd iawn.

Mae yn ei gariad bethau mwy
  Nag fedd y byd yn un;
A phrawf o hono ydyw'r fraint,
  Oruchaf gafodd dyn.
William Williams 1717-91

Tôn: [MC 8686]: St Bernard (Tochter Sion 1741)

gwelir:
  Boed dyoddefiadau pur y groes
  Darfyddwn son am bleser mwy
  F'Anwylyd sydd fel lili hardd
  Fe ddaeth y Jubil werthfawr lawn
  Fe'm siomwyd gan bleserau'r llawr
  Mae durtur yr efengyl fwyn
  Na foed fy mywyd bellach mwy
  Ni feddaf ar y ddaear lawr
  Ni gawsom y Messia'n rhad
  Ni throf fy ŵyneb byth yn ôl
  Ni's gall angylion pur eu dawn
  O deffro'n fore f'enaid gwan
  Pan ddelo angeu yn ei rwysg
  Yn mysg gwyryfon Seion fry

(The time came for the birds to sing)
Let day vanish, let night vanish,
  Like a small minute of an hour;
While I am loving and resting on,
  The bosom of my great Lord.

I would ask to spend my age here,
  From morning until afternoon,
Where I may weep pure love,
  In very sweet tears.

The fully valuable Jubilee came,
  After long groaning;
And I got to see a delightful part;
  Or the paradisiacal land.

The turtle-dove of the gentle gospel, is
  Calling vale and hill;
Let an innumerable throng come
    towards the land,
  With these breezes.

He made his tent amongst us,
  And it is his presence that is
Turning every tribulation
    of bitter affliction
  To delightful peace for us.

Let the pure sufferings of the cross, be
  Like oil to heal me:
The deep groans of the throes of death,
  Given to make me rejoice.

                - - - - -

Let day vanish, let night vanish,
  Like a small minute of an hour;
While I am loving and leaning
  Upon the bosom of my great Lord.

I was disappointed by many pleasures,
  I was deceived by every one;
Flee ye, every idol, I have bidden farewell
  To earth and to man.

I shall never turn my face back,
  To ask for false pleasures;
But I shall walk towards the land
  Which has enduring pleasures.

I sat under his shadow,
  With his fruit which was very sweet;
And here I would spend the days of my age,
  Forever and ever very happily.

There are in his love more things
  Than the whole world possesses;
And a test of this is the supreme
  Privilege man ever got.
tr. 2016,19 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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