Details

Written by: Wayne Harbert

Category: Cymdeithas Madog Chair Competition

Published: 09 March 2011

Hits: 1794

Y ddarn fuddugol yn nghystadleuaeth Gadair Cymdeithas Madog, Cwrs Cymraeg Ottawa A'r Cylch, 1993 gan Suran Y Coed (Wayne Harbert)

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Mae Breuddwyd 'Da Fi

Mae breuddwyd 'da fi.
Pont rhwng nawr ac yfory ydy hi.
Mae'r hafn rhyngddyn yn llydan ac yn ddwfn.
Sut gallwn i groesi hebddi?

Des i â'm merch
I'r cymer hardd hwn o'r afonydd
I adeiladu ynghyd pont o freuddwyd
Drwy rannu pethau gyda'n gilydd
Yr oeddwn i wedi dod yn eu caru:
Hen iaith, ffrindiau newydd,
Hanes a hanesyn, cân a Chymreigrwydd.

A rydw i'n breuddwydio dros fy ngeneth
Y bydd digon o awch a heddwch ac amser
Iddi hithau fynd yn saer pontydd gwerthfawr
Rhwng yfory ac yn awr.

Suran Y Coed

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I Have A Dream

I have a dream.
It is a bridge between now and tomorrow.
The space between them is wide and deep.
How could I cross without it?

My daughter and I came
To this fair convergence of rivers
To build together a bridge out of dream
By sharing things with each other
That I had come to love:
Old language, new friends,
history and story, song and Welshness.

And I have a dream for my little girl,
That there will be zest and peace and time enough
For her too to become a builder of bridges of great worth
Between tomorrow and today.

Wayne Harbert
Cyfieithiad gan / Translation by Wayne Harbert

Details

Written by: Robert Roser

Category: Cymdeithas Madog Chair Competition

Published: 09 March 2011

Hits: 2020

Y ddarn fuddugol yn nghystadleuaeth Gadair Cymdeithas Madog, Cwrs Cymraeg Baltimore A'r Fro, 1994 gan Robert Roser

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Pe Bawn I ...

"Pe bawn i'n ddyn cyfoethog ...", Mae Tevya yn canu mewn comedi: Ffidlwr Ar Y To.

Sawl gwaith ydych chi'n clywed y geiriau? Dim yn unig pe bawn n'n gyfoethog,ond pe bawn i'n Rhywun arall, neu be bai gennyf i Rywbeth arbennig. Er enghraifft: "Pe bawn i'n gyfoethog, byddwn i'n helpu pobl dlawd, rhoi arian i'r capel (neu eglwys), rhoi arian i Gymdeithas Madog."

Mae llawer o fenywod yn meddwl: pe bawn i'n ddyn, ni fyddai rhaid imi weithio mor galed. Mae llawer o ddynion yn meddwl siwr o fod: pe bawn i'n fenyw, ni fyddai rhaid imi weithio mor galed.

Pe bawn i ... mae yna freuddwydion pawb dros y byd. Llawer gwaith mae gennyf y breuddwydion yna yn ystod y dydd wrth eistedd y tu ôl i'r ddesg, yn edrych ar sgrin y cyfrifiadur. Ond rwan, nid fi yn yr ogof-swydd-fa-cuddyg - ond fi ydy'r ogofwr gwir.

Dyma fi wedi nghwisgo mewn ffwr anifeiliaid gwyllt. Rydw i'n eistedd o flaen y tân. Mae ngwallt yn hir ac yn wyllt. Rydw i'n cnoi ar asgwrn, ond mae ngwallt a'm dillad ffwr yn gwneud nghost. Ac mae arth yn sefyll wrth y porth ac mae e'n ddig iawn!

Hedfan i ffwrdd ar unwaith! Rydw i'n glanio yn Rhufain oesol. Ond fe laniais i yng nghanol y Colisewm. Gladiator ydw i. Wel, da iawn, felly, rydw i'n barod am antur. Mae gladiator arall yn sefyll o'mlaen i, sy'n edrych fel meistr-swyddfa yn union. Cleddyf yn erbyn cleddyf ydy'r ymladd yn dechrau. Fi sy'n syrthio. Fe syrthiais ar y tywod. Mae'r meistr yn sefyll uwchben. Bodiau y bobl ydy troi i lawr. Arglwydd mawr! Mae'n hen bryd i hedfan eto!

I ffwrdd â fi!

I ble? Y tro yma, dydw i ddim eisiau bod yn ddyn tlawd. Mae gennyf syniad ardderchog. Beth rydw i'n ei weld? Bron dim byd. Rydw i'n eistedd mewn ystafell, ar gadair fach o flaen y bwrdd bach. Mae hi'n dawel, ac yn dywyll. Mae cannwyll ar y bwrdd.

Mae rhywun yn dod i mewn.

"Mae hi'n bryd i fynd, eich Mawredd," meddai llais.

"Beth?"

"Mae hi'n bryd, Y Brenin Charles. Mae'r fwyall yn disgwyl amdanoch."

"O, na - Y Brenin Charles, y cyntaf, Charles Steward ydw i! Mae'n draed moch arna i!".

Hedfan i ffwrdd eto. Roeddwn i eisiau ymweld â Chymru dros ben. Dacw yn gyflym - ond y tro yma, rydw i eisiau bod fy hunan.

Yn sydyn, dyma fi yng Nhgymru. Rydw i'n eistedd mewn sedd galed bren. Rydw i'n edrych o amgylch y lle. Mae capel bach yn llawn o bobl. Mae'r menywod yn eistedd ar un ochr, a'r dynion ar y ochr arall. Maen nhw'n gwisgo dillad du a hetiau du. Rydw i'n gwisgo crys pinc a thei coch â dotiau polca. Trowsus glas sydd gennyf, does dim het.

Mae yna ddyn yn sefyll o'n blaen ni ac yn gweiddi. Christmas Evans ydy e. Fe sylwodd e fi ar unwaith.

"Pwy ydych chi'n ymddangos yn sydyn rhyngddyn ni? Nid angel sydd wedi neidio o'r nefoedd. Cythrawl ydych chi, rydw i'n siwr!"

"Nage, Americanwr ydw i!"

"Yr un peth," meddai. "Methodist ydych chi?"

"Nage."

"Llabyddiwch!"

I ffwrdd eto. Yn ôl i'r Swyddfa a'r cloc ar y wal yn dweud 5 o'r gloch o'r diwedd. Mae'r dydd wedi dod i ben. Mae hi'n bryd i fynd adre.

Mae'r daith adre yn hir. Mae'r traffig yn ddiflas fel arfer. Mae'r dydd yn boeth a dydy'r peiriant air-condisioning ddim yn gweithio - fel arfer.

Ar ôl i fi gyrraedd gartre, rydw i'n cael nghwrdd â ngwraig.

"Cariad bach, roedd rhaid i fi siopa heddiw. Ffrog mwyaf hardd yn y byd prynais i. Dim ond dau gant o ddolarau oedd hi."

"Nhad, dw i eisiau mynd gyda'm ffrindiau i'r sinema ac wedyn i'r ddisco. Ga i ddeng nolar, os gwelwch chi'n dda? Dw i'n addo i'w rhoi yn ôl," meddai'r ferch.

"Roedd y ci yn sal ar y carped y bore yma", dwedodd mab. "Fe anghofiais i dorri'r lawnt. Gwnaf yfory."

"Doeddwn i ddim eisiau coginio heno ar ôl siopa," dwedodd fy ngwraig. "Gwnawn fynd allan i'r ty bwyta newydd."

Rydw i wedi eistedd i lawr. Rydw i'n cau fy llygaid. Rydw i'n hedfan i ffwrdd.

Robert Roser

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If I Were ...

"If I were a rich man...," sings Tefia in the comedy "Fiddler On The Roof".

How many times do you hear these words? Not only "if I was rich", but "if I was Someone else" or "if I had Something special". For example: "If I was rich, I'd help poor people, give money to the chapel (or church), or give money to Cymdeithas Madog."

Many women think: if I were a man, I wouldn't have to work so hard. Many men surely think: if I were a woman, I wouldn't have to work so hard.

If I were ... That's everyone's dream around the world. Many times I have these dreams during the day while sitting behind the desk, looking at the computer screen. But now I'm not in the cave-office-cubicle - I'm the real caveman.

Here I am wearing wild animal fur. I'm sitting before the fire. Mae hair is long and wild. I'm chewing on a bone. And a bear is standing by the entrance and he's very mad.

Fly away at once! I'm landing in Roman times. But I landed in the Collesium. I'm a gladiator. Well, good, so I'm ready for an adventure. The other gladiator, who looks exactly like an office manager, is standing in front of me. Sword to sword, the fight starts. I'm falling. I fall on the sand. The manager stands above. The thumbs of the people are turned down. Good lord! It's high time to fly again!

Away I go!

Where to? This time I don't want to be a poor man. I've got a great idea. What do I see. Almost nothing. I'm sitting in a room on a small chair before the small table. It's quiet and dark. There's a candle on the table.

Someone comes in.

"It's time to go, your Majesty," said a voice.

"What?"

"It's time, King Charles. The axe is awaiting for you."

"Oh, no - King Charles, the first. I'm Charles Stewart. I'm in a real mess!"

Fly away again. I wanted to visit Wales badly. Yonder quickly - but this time, I want to be myself.

Suddenly, here I am in Wales. I'm sitting on a hard wooden seat. I look around the place. The little chapel is full of people. The women are sitting on one side, and the men on the other. They're wearing black clothes and black hats. I'm wearing a pink shirt and a red tie with polca dots. I have blue pants, no hat.

There's a man standing in front of us and shouting. He's Christmas Evans. He noticed me at once.

"Who are you appearring suddlen amongst us? No angel who has jumped from Heavan. You're a devil, I'm sure!"

"No, I'm an American!"

"The same thing," he said. "Are you a Methodist?"

"No."

"Stone him!"

Away again. Back to the office, and the clock on the wall says 5 o'clock at last. The day has come to an end. It's time to go home.

The trip home is long. The traffic's awful as usual. The day is hot and the air-conditioning isn't working - as usual.

After arriving home, I am met by my wife.

"Dear, I had to go shopping today. I bought the most beautiful dress in the world. It only cost $200."

"Dad, I want to go with my friends to the cinema and then to the disco. Can I have $10, please? I promise to give it back," said my daughter.

"The dog was sick on the carpet this morning", said a son. "I forgot to mow the lawn. I'll do it tomorrow."

"I didn't want to cook tonight after shopping," said my wife. "We'll go out to the new restaurant."

I sit down. I close my eyes. I'm flying away.

Robert Roser
Cyfieithiad gan / Translation by John Otley

Details

Written by: Wayne Harbert

Category: Cymdeithas Madog Chair Competition

Published: 10 March 2011

Hits: 1811

Y ddarn fuddugol yn nghystadleuaeth Gadair Cymdeithas Madog, Cwrs Cymraeg Atlanta, 1995 gan Iolo Morgannwg (Wayne Harbert)

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Dyddiadur Branwen

Nos Fawrth: Efallai bod y ddrudwen yn hedfan o hyd, maban i, dros y môr llwydlas, fy neges dan ei adain. Crynodd fy llaw pan wthiais i hi trwy ffenestr fach fy nghell. Fis yn ôl oedd hynny? Ni allaf i gofio yn holloll. Yr oedd hi yn gyfaill mwyn i mi. Ai pechod mawr oedd danfon creadur mor ddiniwed a ffyddlon i droi'r byd wyneb i waered? Dyna'r tro cyntaf fy mywyd yr wyf i wedi gwneud rhywbeth i benderfynu fy nhynged fy hun, ond ni allwn i wneud hynny heb dynghedu mamau a phlant eraill. Ceisiwn i fod yn ufudd, yn chwaer barchus, yn wraig gariadus. Pan roes fy mrawd fi yn wraig i frenin y wlad hon, ni chwynais i. Ceisiais i hyd yn oed ddysgu ei iaith, sydd yn swnio mor ddiethr a chras yn fy nghlustiau. Pan alludiodd dy dad fi i gegin y llys, derbyniais i hynny hefyd heb gwyn, er fy mod i'n ddieuog. Gallwn i oeddef llawer - y gell ddiolau a llaith, ergydion gan y cigydd tew, chwerthin dirmygus yr uchelwyr cas. Popeth eithr dy golli di. Oherwydd hynny yn unig y pechais i yn erbyn fy ufudddod gwargaled. Neb ond Duw a wyr beth fydd yn tyfu o'r troedd hwnnw.

Dydd Mercher: Gwelais i seren lesg neithiwr trwy'r ffenestr. Cochlyd oedd hi. Yr wyf yn colli fy nrudwy.

Dydd Iau: Yr oedd yr afon mor hyfryd pan euthum i nôl dwr yn y bore. Mae glas y gors yn tyfu ar y lan. Casglais i ychydig ohonynt, a'u cuddio dan fy ngwisg rhag i'r cigydd eu gweld. Dyn angharedig ydyw ef, sydd yn drewi o farwolaeth. Ni wn i beth y buasai ef yn ei wneud oni bai fy mod i yn wraig y brenin.

Dydd Gwener: Yr oedd cynnwrf mawr yn y llys wedi i'r meichiaid gyrraedd i adrodd am y rhyfeddod a welsent hwy y bore hwn. Y taeogion truenus! Yr oeddent mewn penbleth mawr. Ni welsent hwy erioed fyddin dramor yn dod i'r wlad, a ni wyddent sut i'w disgrifio. "Edrychodd fel pe bai coed mawr yn symud dros y môr atom, Arglwydd." dywedasant hwy. Yr oedd rhaid i'm gwr fy nôl innau i esbonio'r peth. Disgwylent y buaswn i'n mynd i'w weld ar unwaith, ond dywedais i, "Mae rhaid i chwi roi gwisg deg a glân i fi cyn hynny. Ni fyddaf i'n mynd at fy ngwr wedi gwisgo fel morwyn." Brenhines wyf innau, er gwaethaf popeth.

"Hwylbrennau llynges enfawr fy mrawd ydyw'r 'coed'," dywedais i wrtho. "Y mae ef yn dod i'm achub, ac i'm dial." Chwarddais yn chwerw tra dywedais i hynny, ond ni theimlwn yn llidiog. Teimlwn yn ofnus. Peth ofnadwy yw byddin, hyd yn oed pan mae hi'n dod o'm hen wlad.

Wedyn, daethant â fi yn ôl i'm cell, a darparu ffôi. Gallaf glywed seiniau'r paratoadau trwy y muriau. Byddant hwy yn cilio dros yr Afon Llinon. Mae hi'n llifo yn wyllt yn awr. Efallai y bydd hi'n ddigon i rwystro fy mrawd. Bydd y menywod yn ffôi i'r ogofeydd. Gallaf gydymdeimlo gyda hwy, yma yn fy ogof fy hun. Eu plant sydd gyda hwy, o leiaf. Mae fy maban innau yn aros gyda ei dad. Ond ni fyddaf yn wylo amdano bellach.

Dydd Sadwrn, Glasddydd: Mae pawb wedi mynd ymaith. Pawb ond fi. Fe'm gadawsant ar ôl, ond fe'm rhyddhasant o'm cell. Efallai y bydd hynny yn ddigon i lonyddu fy mrawd. Nid oes dim i'wn wneud ond aros. O na buaswn i'n rhyfelwr! Na, ni ddymunaf hynny. Aros y byddaf i.

Dydd Llun: Llwyddodd byddin fy mrawd i groesi'r afon. Gyda hwy yr wyf i yn awr. Yr oedd ef mor ddig nes fy nod i prin yn ei adnabod ef. Dig yn wastad yw'r hen Efnisien, wrth gwrs. Ni eill ef ddim ond casâu. Ond ar ôl iddo glywed am lwyddiant fy mrawd, danfonodd Matholwch lysgenhadwyr i erfyn am gyngor heddwch. Y mae'r Gwyddelod yn adeiladu neuadd enfawr ar gyfer y cyngor. Gallaf eu gweld hwy o gopa'r bryn yn torri coed. Efallai y bydd hynny yn ddigon i fodloni fy mrawd. Mae'n dda gweld byddin yn adeiladu, yn lle difetha.

A thi, fy mab, fydd yn cael dy ddewis yn frenin y ddwy wlad, wedi iddynt hwy greu heddwch. A brenin trugarog a chyfiawn fyddi di, sydd yn adeiladu yn lle difetha, a sydd yn amddiffyn y mamau a'u plant, er gwaethaf pobl fel dy ewythr Efnisien a dyd dad. A byddaf innau'n ufuddhau iti yn llawn.

A oes angylion sydd yn gofalu amdanom, annwyl Gwern?

Iolo Morgannwg

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The Diary Of Branwen

Tuesday Night: Perhaps the starling is still flying, my baby, across the grey-blue sea, my message under her wing. My hand shook when I pushed her through the little window of my cell. A month ago, was it? I can't remember exactly. She was a gentle companion to me. Was it a great sin to send so harmless and faithful a creature to turn the world upside down? That was the first time in my life that I have done something to determine my own fate, but I couldn't do it without fixing the fate of other mothers and other children. I tried to be obedient - a respectable sister, a loving wife. When my brother gave me as wife to the king of this land, I did not complain. I even tried to learn his language, which sounds so strange and coarse to my ears. When your father exiled me to the kitchen of the court, I accepted that too without complaint, though I am innocent. I could tolerate much - the dark, wet cell, the blows of the fat butcher, the scornful laughter of the hateful nobles. Everything but missing you. Because of that alone I have sinned against my stiff-necked obedience. None but God knows what will grow from that sin.

Wednesday: I saw a faint star last night through the window. Reddish, it was. I miss my starling.

Thursday: The river was so pretty when I went to fetch water in the morning. Forget-me-nots were growing on the bank. I gathered a few of them and hid them under my dress, so that the butcher wouldn't see them. He is a hateful man, who smells of death. I don't know what he would do if I weren't the wife of the king.

Friday: There was a great commotion in the court after the swineherds arrived to report about the wonder they had seen this morning. The poor peasants! They were greatly perplexed. They had never seen a foreign army come to the land, and they didn't know how to describe it. "It looked as if a great forest were moving across the sea toward us, Lord," they said. My husband had to fetch me to explain the thing. They expected that I would go to see him at once, but I said, "You must give me a pretty, clean dress before that. I will not go to my husband dressed like a maidservant." I am a queen, in spite of everything.

"The 'forest' is the masts of my brother's fleet," I told him. "he is coming to save me, and to avenge me." I laughed bitterly as I said that, but I didn't feel angry. I felt afraid. An army is a fearsome thing, even when it comes from my dear country.

Afterwards, they brought me back to my cell and prepared to flee. I can hear the sounds of the preparations through the walls. They will retreat across the river Llinon. it is flowing wildly now. Perhaps that will be enough to stop my brother. The women will flee to caves. I can sympathize with them, here in my own cave. Their children are with them, at least. My son remains with his father. But I will not cry about him anymore.

Saturday, Daybreak: Everyone has gone away. Everyone but me. They left me behind, but they freed me from my cell. Perhaps that will be enough to satisfy my brother. There is nothing to do now but wait. If only I were a warrior! No, I do not wish that. I will wait.

Monday: My brother's army succeeded in crossing the river. I am with them now. He was so angry that I almost didn't recognize him. Old Efnisien is always angry, of course. he can't do anything but hate. But after hearing about my brother's success, Matholwch sent ambassadors to sue for a peace conference. The Irish are building a huge hall for the conference. I can see them from the top of the hill, cutting wood. Perhaps that will be enough to content my brother. If is good to see an army building instead of destroying.

And you, my son, will be chosen king of the two lands, after they have made peace. And you will be a merciful and just king, who builds instead of destroys, and who protects the mothers and their children, in spite of people like your Uncle Efnisien and your father. And I will obey you gladly.

Are their angels who watch over us, dear Gwern?

Wayne Harbert
Cyfieithiad gan / Translation by Wayne Harbert