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    pensaer celfyddyd cymuned architect art community architekt kunst gemeinde

    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:

     

    Sylwer: Mae rhai rhannau o'r wefan wrthi'n cael eu hailwampio.

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