Ifor ap Glyn

威尔士文

Gwers

Trwy hedfan dros Gymru
mae dysgu ei charu;
hongian yn araf uwch ei phen,
ei hadnabod o onglau anghyfarwydd.

Ac rhwng cellwair y cymylau blew geifr,
dyma benrhyn Llŷn,
fel llawes a dorchwyd ar frys.

Dyma gaeau’n gotymau blêr
am ddirgelwch y mynydd,
wedi’u pwytho’n gain gan y cloddiau.

Dyma lechi’n domenni
wedi’u cribo o’r tir
fel ôl bysedd drwy’r tywod,

a llynnoedd bychain llachar
fel mannau geni cyfrin
yn haul yr hwyr. 

Ac wrth drwyno ffenest yr awyren heno
mae’r gwefusau’n mynnu adrodd
pader yr enwau,

“Dyfi Junction, Cors Fochno...”
a’th anadl fel siffrwd carwr dros ei chorff,
“Dowlais, Penrhys, Gilfach Goch...” 

Ac wrth iddi gau’i swildod dan len,
mae cysgod yr awyren
yn symud fel croes dros y cymylau gwynion, 

yn sws ar lythyr caru’r oesau,
yn bleidlais betrus dros ei pharhad...

© Ifor ap Glyn
从: Waliau'n Canu
Gwasg Carreg Gwalch , 2011
录制: Wales Literature Exchange

ELEVATION

Flying over Wales, suspended
high above, is to learn
how to love her; gliding slow,
knowing her from this new angle.

Between the tease of mare-tail clouds,
her peninsula arm exposed,
sleeve eager, rolled-ready.
 And look, beneath her collage of a dress,
the mystery of the mountain
elegantly stonewall-stitched.

And there, the furrows of unearthed slate
combed like the drag
of fingers through sand,
 
and the small bright lakes
like enigmatic birth marks
glimpsed while lovers lock.

Tonight, nose wedged against the window,
your lips insist on reciting
the litany of place names,

‘Dyfi Junction, Cors Fochno. . .’
your breath a sacred shuffle across her body,
‘Dowlais, Penrhys, GilfachGoch . . .’

And as she wraps her shyness with a veil of cloud,
the plane’s shadow
casts a cross below,
 
a timeless kiss on this love letter,
a hesitant vote for her future.

Translated by Clare E. Potter