|GORCHAN CYNFELYN (Detholion)||from THE GORCHAN OF CYNFELYN|
A galar dwfn dyfydd|
I Wynasedd Felyn,
Ei grau o'i gylchyn,
Medd mygr melyn;
Ei grau o'i gylchyn
Rhag cadau Cynfelyn,
Ysgwn, bryffwn bâr,
Ar ddynin adwyar.
O dan forddwyd haelon,
Cyfred cerdd wyllion
Ar wellin dirion.
Teyrn, tud gnaw,
Ys mau ei gwynaw
Oni fwyf yn nydd taw,
Gochawn cyrdd ceinmyn
Yw Gwarchan Cynfelyn;
Edfyn ŵr gŵnedd,
Gwynedd ei wlad ...
Gwarchan Cynfelyn ar Ododdin,
Neus gorug o ddyn ddogn gymhwyllaid.
Ei wayw drŵn oreuraid a'm rhoddes,
....Poed er lles i'w enaid.
Edmygir mab Tegfan
Wrth rif ac wrth ran,
.....Wyr Cadfan colofn graid.
Pan fyriwyd arfau
Tros ben cad fleiddiau,
.....Buan ddau yn nydd rhaid.
Trywyr a thri ugaint a thrychant
I freithell Gatraeth ydd aethant;
O'r sawl yd grysiasant uch medd menestri
.....Namyn tri nid atgorsant:
Cynon a Chadraith a Chadlew o Gadnant
A minnau o'm crau ddychiorant.
Mab coel certh, fy ngwerth i a wnaethant
O aur pur a dur ac ariant;
Einiwed, nid nodded, rygawsant.
Gwarchan cyrdd Cynfelyn cyfnofant.
A deep distress comes|
To Gwynasedd Felyn,
His blood around him,
Hidden the foam
Of fine yellow mead;
His blood around him
Before the hosts of Cynfelyn,
Cynfelyn the wrathful,
The bold one, foremost with spear,
Feeder of birds
On bloody corpses.
Long-striding horses galloped
Beneath the thighs of noble warriors,
Swift as the movement of the wild men
Over the grassy plain.
A prince, riches of his people,
It is mine to mourn him
Until I am in my silent day,
Feller of the enemy
With broad-hafted weapon.
The pride of honourable hosts
Is the Gorchan of Cynfelyn;
The Gorchan of Cynfelyn,
Guardian of the border,
Gwynedd was his land ...
The Gorchan of Cynfelyn, joined to Y Gododdin,
Has made full commendation of the man,
He gave me his fine gilded spear,
....May it benefit his soul.
The son of Tegfan is honoured
For his numerous gifts,
.....The grandson of Cadfan, pillar of battle.
When weapons were hurled
Over the heads of the wolves of war
.....The two were swift in the day of combat.
Three men and three score and three hundred
Went to the land of Catraeth:
Of those who charged forward after the mead of the cup-bearers
.....Save three, none returned:
Cynon and Cadraith and Cadlew of Cadnant,
And I from my blood-letting.
A true son of prophecy, they paid my ransom
Of pure gold and steel and silver;
Injury, and no advantage, did they receive.
The Gorchan of the hosts of warlike Cynfelyn.
Trans. Copyright © A.O.H.Jarman 1988 - publ. Gomer Press