DRYSAU
Dyma’r drws i’r gorffennol,
y llwybr fach yn fy mhentref fi.
Dyma’r ffordd dw i’n cerdded,
er gwaethaf cyfarth y ci.
Coeden afal sur wedi mynd nawr,
dim ond waliau yr ysgol newydd.
Diflannodd y sticil dros y nant hefyd:
arwydd o berygl ar y ffens fawr.
Ro’n i’n arfer chwilio yn y gwern
am frogau bach, gyda fy mhlant,
ac roedden ni’n bwyta mefus gwyllt
yn y lle o greigiau, o’r hen bwll.
Dyma’r drws i’r dyfodol,
o diwedd y Waun ( y tir ail-eni);
yr ystad tai newydd sbon,
lle oedd mwyar duon wedi tyfu.
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DOORS
Here’s the door to the past
along the thin village path.
This is the direction I take,
despite the dog’s loud bark.
Crab apple trees all gone now,
only high walls of the new school.
Stile by the stream taken down
and replaced by a DANGER sign.
With my children, finding the marshland
and frogs to hop from their tiny hands.
We would eat wild strawberries,
grew among rocks where mines used to be.
Here’s the door to the future
where wildness of the Waun’s no more;
an estate of brand-new housing
where blackberries once grew for picking.
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