Darfydded/Darfyddwn son am bleser mwy

(Pleserau dwyfol ras)
Darfydded son am bleser mwy,
  Yn agos ac yn mhell;
Fel gallwyf yfed dyfroedd pur,
  O ffynon lawer gwell.

O cau fy llygaid rhag im' wel'd
  Pleserau gwael y byd,
Ac i mi wyro byth oddiar
  Dy lwybrau gwerthfawr drud.

Byth gorfoledda f'enaid mwy,
  Dy briod yw dy Dduw;
Mwy ydyw rhinwedd marwol glwy',
  Na phechod o un rhyw.

'D â'i mofyn haeddiant byth,
    na nerth,
  Na ffafr neb na'i hedd,
Ond hwnw'n unig gwyd fy llwch,
  Yn fyw i'r làn o'r bedd.

              - - - - -

Darfyddwn son am bleser mwy,
  Yn agos ac yn mhell;
Tra cawn i yfed
      dyfroedd pur,
  O ffynnon lawer gwell.

Darfydded dydd, darfydded nos,
  Fel mynyd fechan awr;
Tra cawn yn caru a rhoi mhwys,
  Ar fynwes f'Arglwydd mawr.

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

Ac megys pren afalau pêr,
  Yn nghanol prenau'r coed;
Felly f'Anwylyd yntau 'mhlith
  Y meibion sy'n cael clod.

F'anwylyd sydd fel lili hardd,
  Hyfryda erioed ei liw;
Ag sydd yn maeddu blodau'r byd,
  Posïau pena' eu rhyw.
William Williams 1717-91

[Mesur: MC 8686]

gwelir:
  'D a' i 'mofyn haeddiant byth na nerth
  Darfydded dydd darfydded nôs
  F'anwylyd sydd fel lili hardd
  Iesu difyrwch f'enaid drud
  Iesu yw tegwch mawr y byd
  Mae durtur yr efengyl fwyn
  Na foed fy mywyd bellach mwy
  Ni feddaf ar a ddaear fawr
  O tyred Ysbryd sanctaidd pur
  'Rwy'n morio tua chartre'm Nêr
  Tyr'd Ysbryd sanctaidd ledia'r ffordd
  Yn mysg gwyryfon Seion fry

(The pleasures of divine grace)
Let mention of pleasure cease evermore,
  Near and far;
That I may drink pure waters,
  From a better fount.

O close my eyes lest I see
  The base pleasures of the world,
And I veer forever from
  Thy costly, precious paths.

Forever rejoice, my soul, evermore,
  Thy spouse is thy God;
Greater is the merit of a mortal wound,
  Than sin of any kind.

I shall ask for no merit any more,
    nor strength,
  Nor the favour of anyone, nor his peace,
But him alone who shall raise my dust,
  Alive up from the grave.

                 - - - - -

I would cease to mention pleasure any more,
  Near and far;
As long as I could get to
    drink pure waters,
  From a much better fount.

Let day cease, let night cease,
  Like the small minute of an hour;
As long as I get to love and lean,
  On the breast of my great Lord.

I sat under his shade,
  And his fruit was very sweet;
And here I would spend the days of my age,
  Forever and ever very happy.

And like the fruit of the sweet apples,
  In the midst of the trees of the wood;
Thus my Beloved himself amongst
  The sons who are getting praise.

My Beloved is like a beautiful lily,
  The most delightful ever his colour;
And who beats the flowers of the world,
  The chief posies of their kind.
tr. 2016 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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