Dwi am fynd a thi i Far Rockaway;
Far Rockaway. Mae enw'r lle'n
gitâr yn fy mhen, yn gôr
o rythmau haf a llanw môr,
yn sgwrs cariadon dros goffi cry'
ar ôl taith trwy'r nos mewn picyp du,
yn ogla petrol ar ôl glaw,
yn chwlio'r lleuad law yn llaw,
yn hela brogaod ar gefnffordd wleb,
yn wefr o fod yn nabod neb...
Dwi am fynd a thi i Far Rockaway;
Far Rockaway, lle mae cwr y ne'n
golchi'i thraed ym mudreddi'r traeth
ac yn ffeirio hwiangerddi ffraeth,
lle mae enfys y graffiti'n ffin
rhwng y waliau noeth a'r haul mawr blin,
lle mae'r trac yn teithio'r llwybr cul
rhwng gwen nos Sadwrn a gwg y Sul
a ninnau'n dau yn rhannu baich
ein cyfrinachau fraich ym mraich...
Dwi am fynd a thi i Far Rockaway;
Far Rockaway, lle mae heddlu'r dre'n
sgwennu cerddi wrth ddisgwyl trên
ac yn sgwrsio hefo'u gynnau'n glên;
lle mae'r beirdd ar eu hystolion tal
yn cynganeddu ar bedair wal,
yn chwarae gwyddbwyll â'u llaw chwith
ac yn yfed wisgi hefo gwlith.
Mae cusan hir yn enw'r lle;
Far Rockaway, Far Rockaway.
Iwan Llwyd
GWAITH NEWYDD: llwybrau a lleoedd i'w gweld a'u profi; lle mae'r byd hwn a'r byd arall yn cymuno
NEW PROJECT: paths and places to be found and experienced; where this world and the other world commune
NEUE PROJEKT: Wege und Orte zu finden und zu erfahren; wo diese Welt und die andere Welt sich verbinden
Yr Eiliad
Nid oes son am yr Eiliad
Yn llyfr un ysgolhaig.
Peidia'r afon â rhedeg
A gwaedda'r graig
Ei bod hi'n dyst
I bethau ni welodd llygad
Ac ni chlywodd clust.
Awel rhwng yr awelon
Haul o'r tu hwnt i'r haul,
Rhyfeddod y gwir gynefin
Heb dro, heb draul
Yn cipio'r llawr -
Gwyddom gan ddyfod yr Eiliad
Ein geni i'r Awr
Waldo Williams
The Moment (literal translation)
There is no mention of the Moment
in any scholar's book.
The brook stops flowing
and the rock proclaims
that she is witness
to things not seen by eye
or heard by ear.
A breeze between the breezes
A sun between the suns
The wonder of the true habitat
undisfigured, unworn
taking the floor -
We know from the coming of the Moment
That we are born to the Hour.
Bright Field
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the pearl
of great price, the one field that had
the treasure in it. I realize now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
R.S.Thomas
Kafka's Castle
Kafka’s castle stands above the world
like a last bastille
of the Mystery of Existence
Its blind approaches baffle us
Steep paths
plunge nowhere from it
Roads radiate into air
like the labyrinth wires
of a telephone central
thru which all calls are
infinitely untraceable
Up there
it is heavenly weather
Souls dance undressed
together
and like loiterers
on the fringes of a fair
we ogle the unobtainable
imagined mystery
Yet away around on the far side
like the stage door of a circus tent
is a wide wide vent in the battlements
where even elephants
waltz thru
Lawrence Ferlenghetti
I will take you to Far Rockaway,
Far Rockaway,
where the city police
are sketching poems as they await the train,
and swap stories with their submachine guns,
and the poets on their high rise ladders
are daubing cynghanedd on four walls,
drinking whisky and dew,
playing left-handed chess;
the name is one long drawn out kiss--
Far Rockaway, Far Rockaway.
I will take you to Far Rockaway,
Far Rockaway,
the name strums
a guitar in my head, sings a choir
of summer and sea-tide rhythms:
talks of lovers over black coffee
on a night-ride in a pick-up truck,
smells of gasoline after rain,
hand in hand on the trail of the moon,
hunting bullfrogs on a wet lane,
the thrill of that half-remembered tune:
I will take you to Far Rockaway,
Far Rockaway,
where the heavens' hem
trails in the muddied seashore,
and trades witty lullabies,
where the graffiti rainbow is a frontier
between the naked walls and the simmering sun,
where the track follows the narrow path
between Saturday's smiles and Sunday's scowl,
as we both share our secret burdens
arm in arm: