| Y Baban ar fin y Dibyn
Ar lecyn glâs, ar ael daneddog graig, Estynnai’I throed I’w golchi gan yr aig, Gwyngalchog fwthyn clyd pysgotwr sydd Fel meudwy yn mwynhau’r awelon rhydd; Nid nepell oddiwrth y bwthyn derch Yn gyrru braw drwy ddyn mae dibyn erch, A dwyed ystwyth dafod ofer-goeliaeth Mai’r dibyn erchyll hwn yw porth marwolaeth, A body n nyfynder prudd y nos, ysbrydion Y dewrion lyncir gan wyllt raib yr eigion, Yn hofran uwch y lle, a’u hanaearol leisiau Yn blaenu pob ystorm, fel rhagredegwyr angau! Tra’r tad yn ei fwyd ar gefn y dòn, Mae’r ieuanc fam o fewn y bwth yn canu, A’u Halwyn hoff, eu hunig blenny llon (Er’s mis dechreuodd gerdded cylch y celfi) Fel seraff glwys o flaen y ty Yn chwareu gyda Carlo’r ci; Ac er byrred yw ei gam, Medra chwareu “wic” â’i fam; Týr y blodau yma thraw, Bwyty beth ynghyda’r baw, Ac o’r diwedd y mae yn llwyddo I wthio’i fys Ii lygad Carlo, Gerub tlws dau lydad addien Yn disgleirio fel dwy seren; Ar ei ben mae coron euraidd O fodrwyog wallt sidanaidd; Ar ei ddwyrudd arlun rhosyn O ddiniwed bert flodeuyn, Pwy all fod yn gâs i blentyn? I’r glust ä cân y fam wanach – gwanach, Mae Alwyn bach yn crwydro’n ’mhellach – pellach O wydd ei fam, yr hon sydd – ha! Mae’r plenty Yn aberth noeth ar allor esgeulustod;
Yn tynnu at y du ofnadwy ddibyn! Yn union bydd yn ganddryll ar y gwaelod Un cam eto a bydd –Rhagluniaeth fawr! Dyna gap y bychan wedi syrthio lawr! Mae yntau yn! – â golwg wyllt gan ddychryn, Y fam sy’n ddistaw nesu at y plenty; Arswyda nesu yn rhy agos ato Rhat iddo chwareu “wic,” a syrthio-syrthio! O gyfyng awr! pa beth a wna? Ochenaid drom I’r nefoedd ä; Mewn eiliad, angel yn ei chlust sibryda, Rhydd gobaith iddi nerth, ei llygaid loewa, A’i bron, lliwr eira, dýn o’I mynwes allan, A gyda llais mor fwyn a pheraidd sain clych arian, Mae’n galw – “Alwyn” – y plenty glyw y llais, Try ei ben, mae’n edrych ar y fron, a chais Ymgripio at ei fam, yr hon sy’n rhuthro I’w wasgu yn ei chôl, ac yn llesmeirio, Tra’r weddi hon drwy’t mȋn I’r nef yn esgyn- “Fy nghalon it’ O! Dduw am achub Alwyn.” |
The Baby and the Precipice
On a green secluded spot on a ragged rock, That stretches its foot to be washed by the sea, A fisherman’s cosy secluded cottage Is like a hermit enjoying the fresh Breeze; A stone’s throw from the lonely cottage Is a treacherous precipice which terrifies man, Local superstition states that this precipice Is in fact known as the gate of death And in the deepest and darkest of nights, Ghosts will come and devour brave men, They hover above the place with unearthly noise At the head of every storm; death’s forerunners! As the father fishes on the waves, The young mother in the cottage sings, With little Halwyn, their only child (who only started walking a month ago) Like a holy seraph in front of the house The child plays with Carlo his dog; And even though his steps are Short, He can still play “catch” with his mum; He picks some flowers here and there, And even eats some with the soil, And at last he manages to push His finger into Carlo’s eye, A beautiful cherub with both eyes Sparkling like a couple of stars; On his head a golden crown Of ringed silky golden hair; And on both cheeks a rose’s image A beautiful innocent flower, Who could be hateful to such a child? To his ear his mum’s song becomes weaker – weaker, Little Alwyn wonders further – further From his mother’s presence – the child Is drawn to the dreadful dark precipice! Shortly he’ll be lying at the bottom! A sacrifice at the altar of carelessness, One more step! – Heaven forbid, Now his cap falls down the precipice. He is petrified with fear The mother quietly approaches the Boy; Frightened of getting too close In case he plays “catch” slips and falls! What a horrendous moment — what to do? A heavy sigh towards the heavens! Immediately an angel whispers in her ear, And gives her hope and strength, Her breast as white as snow, she calls, In a voice so sweet and mellow She calls his name “Alwyn” He hears the voice, turns his head, He starts to run towards his mum. She embraces him in her breast, And this prayer rises towards Heaven – “Oh God my heart to you for saving Alwyn” |
Translation by Catrin Haines-Davies, volunteer at Swansea University