Hedd Wyns poem War
Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng, A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell; O'i ôl mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng, Yn codi ei awdurdod hell. Pan deimlodd fyned ymaith Dduw Cyfododd gledd i ladd ei frawd; Mae swn yr ymladd ar ein clyw, A'i gysgod ar fythynnod tlawd. Mae'r hen delynau genid gynt, Ynghrog ar gangau'r helyg draw, A gwaedd y bechgyn lond y gwynt, A'u gwaed yn gymysg efo'r glaw |
Bitter to live in times like these. When he thinks God has gone away Like the old songs they left behind, |
Original Welsh
Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng,
A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell;
O'i ôl mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng,
Yn codi ei awdurdod hell.
Pan deimlodd fyned ymaith Dduw
Cyfododd gledd i ladd ei frawd;
Mae sŵn yr ymladd ar ein clyw,
A'i gysgod ar fythynnod tlawd.
Mae'r hen delynau genid gynt
Ynghrog ar gangau'r helyg draw,
A gwaedd y bechgyn lond y gwynt,
A'u gwaed yn gymysg efo'r glaw.
Word-for-word Translation |
Poetic Translation |
|
Ellis Evans (Hedd Wyn) |
Woe is me that I live in an age so boorish*,
And God at ebb on a distant horizon;
After him, man, (both) lord and commoner,
Raising his ugly authority.
When he felt God's going away
He raised a sword to kill his brother;
The sound of battle is on our ear,
And its shadow on poor cottages.
The old harps that were played before are
Suspended on the branches of yonder willows,
And the scream of the boys filling the wind,
And their blood mixed with the rain.
Black Boy Inn, Northgate Street, Caernarfon, Gwynedd, LL55 1RW Tel 01286 673604
Poetic Translation |
|
Ellis Evans (Hedd Wyn) |
Alas, this is an age so mean
That everyman is made a Lord,
For all authority's absurd
When God himself fades from the scene.
As quick as God is shown the door
Out come the cannons and the sword:
Hate on hate on brother poured
And scored the deepest on the poor.
The harps that once could help our pain
Hang silent, to the willows pinned.
The cry of battle fills the wind
And blood of lads--it falls like rain.
War
By Hedd Wyn (Ellis Evans)
Translated by A.Z. Foreman
Click here to hear me recite the Welsh
Woe that I live in bitter days,
As God is setting like a sun
And in his place, as lord and slave,
Man raises forth his heinous throne.
When he thought God was gone at last
He put his brother to the sword.
Now death is roaring in our ears,
Shadowing the shanties of the poor.
The old and silenced harps are hung
On yonder willow trees again.
The bawl of boys is on the wind.
Their blood is blended in the rain.
The Original:
Rhyfel
Gwae fi fy myw mewn oes mor ddreng
A Duw ar drai ar orwel pell;
O'i ôl mae dyn, yn deyrn a gwreng,
Yn codi ei awdurdod hell.
Pan deimlodd fyned ymaith Dduw
Cyfododd gledd i ladd ei frawd;
Mae swn yr ymladd ar ein clyw,
A'i gysgod ar fythynnod tlawd.
Mae'r hen delynau genid gynt
Ynghrog ar gangau'r helyg draw
Black Boy Inn, Northgate Street, Caernarfon, Gwynedd, LL55 1RW Tel 01286 673604
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