Y mae'r byd a'i wag bleserau Yn ein swyno fawr a man; Telyn Seion ar yr helyg, Wedi colli'n llwyr ei chan; O na welid Seion eto Gyda'i thelyn yn ei llaw, Baich caethiwed wedi ei symud, Hithau'n canu heb ddim braw. Gwywder gauaf sy'n nodweddu Gardd f'Anwylyd yn ein plith, Dim cawodydd er's blynyddau, Ysgafn hefyd yw y gwlith; Eto clywaf yn yr awel Swn y gwlaw yn dod o bell, A disgwyliwn, er y gwywder, Daw ar fyr in' amser gwell.Parch Edward Roberts Cān a Mawl / Song and Praise 1918 Tôn [8787D]: Venedocia (Daniel Protheroe 1866-1934) |
The world with its empty pleasures is Enchanting us great and small; The harp of Zion on the willow, Having completely lost its song; O that Zion were seen again With her harp in her hand, The burden of captivity having removed, She singing without any terror. The withering of winter is characterising My beloved's garden in our midst, No showers for years, Light also is the dew; Again I hear in the breeze The sound of the rain coming from afar, And we expect, despite the withering, Coming shortly to us a better time.tr. 2016 Richard B Gillion |
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