Mae'r sonedau canlynol wedi dod i'r fei; ugain ohonynt. Carem
eu cyflwyno i'r byd o dipyn i beth.
Fe'u cyfieithwyd gan Waldo Williams ac mae copiau ohonynt (yn
llawysgrifen ei chwaer) ym
meddiant y prifardd Robin Llwyd.
Fe'u cadwyd yn ofalus dros y blynyddoedd gan Dafydd Williams. Rhyfedd yw cofio i'r
hen Barry Bach ddweud un tro, 'Translations, be they ever so good, will never do
justice to our poetry.'
Ceir 20 ohonynt i gyd... gwyliwch y dudalen hon!!!
Squat on the live machine we sped, God knows,
So sweetly, swiftly that we seemed to be
Quite motionless between two leafy rows
Of parallel motion. On a sudden tree
A nesting crow flew on unopened wings,
While black poles dangled perpendicular
And danced past sullenly on wire strings,
With dusty sun-specks glistening on their tar.
Watching the clean and gliding high-road dash
Unkindered under us and up the hill,
I felt, through shuddering steel, a blind wall crash
Into the wheel, - and all the world stood still.
Another inch, and I might then have read
Upon the wall the secret of the dead.
You cross a startled field, gun under arm,
On the alert, for you have seen a hare
Spring from its form, its feet shod with alarm,
Its body seared to swiftness, as it were.
You follow in its track until you see
Again your quarry, like a sunburnt elf,
And yet again - four times - ten times, maybe,
And in your heart you are as scared yourself.
Leaving the track, you semi-circle round
The knolls and hollows with a quick surmise:
Meeting your victim coming at a bound,
You shoot the lead into its frightened eyes.
Your heart no longer quickens for the same,
When your poor quarry's caught. Love-life's the same.