Mi wela'r cwmwl du

(Tymhestl y nos)
  Mi wela'r cwmwl du,
    Yn awr yn dechreu ffoi,
  A gwynt y Gogledd sy
    Ychydig bach yn troi;
'Nol tymhestl fawr, daw yn y man
Ryw hyfryd hin ar f'enaid gwan.

  Ac yna'n llawen iawn,
    A'm gofid dan fy nhraed,
  O foreu hyd brydnawn,
    Caf brofi gwir fwynhad:
A gwledda byth yn nhŷ fy Nhad,
Ar ffrwythau'r iechydwriaeth rad.

              - - - - -
       1,2,(3,(4,5));  1,2,3,6.

  Mi wela'r cwmwl du
    Yn awr yn mron a ffoi,
  A gwynt y gogledd sy
    Ychydig bach yn troi:
'N ôl tymmestl fawr, daw yn y màn
Ryw hyfryd hîn ar f'enaid gwàn.

  Ni phery ddim yn hir
    Yn ddu dymhestlog nôs;
  Ni threfnwyd oesoedd maith
    I neb i gario'r groes:
Mae'r hyfryd wawr sy'n c'odi draw
Yn d'weyd fod boreu
      brâf ger llaw.

  Mi welaf oleu'r haul
    Ar fryniau tŷ fy Nhad,
  Yn dangos imi sail
    Fy iachawdwriaeth râd: -
Fod f'enw fry
      ar lyfrau'r nef,
Ac nad oes a'i dilëa ef.

  Ac er im flwyddau hir
    I deithio'r anial nos,
  Ac yfed llawer dracht
    O gwpan chwerw'r gro's;
Diodde'r iau ydoedd fy ngrym,
Ac nid aiff fy niodde'n ddim.

  Y pwn oedd ar fy ngwar
    A ysgafnhaodd fy Nuw,
  Ac mi ges fendith iawn
    Ar gystudd dua' ei ryw;
Fy ngweddi daer a drodd y rhod,
Gwnaeth fêl o'r gwenwyn chwerwa' erio'd.

  Melus fel diliau mêl,
    A maethlon er iachâd,
  Yw holl geryddon nef,
    A gwialenodiau 'Nhad:
Pob croes, pob gwae,
      pob awel gref,
Sydd yn addfedu'r saint i'r nef.
William Williams 1717-91

Tonau [666688]:
Bevan (John Goss 1800-80)
Beverley (alaw Seisnig)
Darwall (John Darwall 1731-89)
Haddam (Lowell Mason 1792-1872)
Normandy (alaw Seisnig)
Waterstock (John Goss 1800-80)
Wesley (S S Wesley 1810-76)
Y Faenol (William Propert 1884-1959)

gwelir:
Mae gan 'tifeddion gras
Ni phery ddim yn hir
Pwysaf ar air fy Nuw

(The tempest of the night)
  I see the black cloud,
    Now beginning to flee,
  And the north wind which is
    Just a little turning;
After a great tempest shall come soon
Some delightful weather on my weak soul.

  And then very joyfully,
    With my grief under my feet,
  From morn until evening,
    I may get to experience true enjoyment:
And feast forever in my Father's house,
On the fruits of the free salvation.

                 - - - - -


    I see the black cloud,
    Now beginning to flee,
  And the north wind which is
    Just a little turning;
After a great tempest shall come soon
Some delightful weather on my weak soul.

  It will not continue long
    As a black tempestuous night
  Vast ages were not ordained
    For anyone to carry the cross:
The delightful dawn is rising yonder
Saying that the pleasant
      morning is at hand.

  I see the light of the sun
    On the hills of my Father's house,
  Showing me the basis
    Of my free salvation: -
That my name is above
       on the books of heaven,
And there is nothing that shall erase it.

  And although I have long years
    To travel the desert night,
  And drink many a draught
    From the bitter cup of the cross;
Suffering the yoke that was my force,
And my suffering will not come to anything.

  The burden that was on my neck
    My God made lighter,
  And I got a full blessing
    On the affliction of the blackest kind;
My fervent prayer that turned the wheel,
Made honey from the bitterest ever poison.

  Sweet like combs of honey,
    And nourishing for health,
  Are all heaven's chastisements
    And my Father's strokes;
Every cross, every woe,
      every strong breeze,
Is maturing the saints for heaven.
tr. 2015,20 Richard B Gillion
 
The cloud has almost cleared
tr. Howell Elvet Lewis [Elfed] 1860-1953
Sweet Singers of Wales 1889
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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