Gwenallt Jones: Wales (From Welsh)

Wales
By Gwenallt Jones
Translated by A.Z. Foreman

Why give us all this misery? The wrack
Of pain on flesh and blood like leaden weight,
Your language on our shoulders like a sack,
And your traditions fetters round our feet?
The canker rots your colors everywhere.
Your soul is scabbed with boils. Your song a scream.
In your own land you are but a nightmare
And your survival but a witch's dream.
Still, we can't leave you in the filth to stand
A generation's laughing-stock and jest.
Your former freedom is our sword in hand,
Your dignity a buckler at our breast.
We'll grip our spears and spur our steeds: go brave
Lest we should shame our fathers in their grave.

The Original:

Cymru
Gwenallt Jones

Paham y rhoddaist inni'r tristwch hwn,
A'r boen fel pwysau plwm ar gnawd a gwaed?
Dy iaith ar ein hysgwyddau megis pwn,
A'th draddodiadau'n hual am ein traed?
Mae'r cancr yn crino dy holl liw a'th lun,
A'th enaid yn gornwydydd ac yn grach,
Nid wyt ond hunllef yn dy wlad dy hun,
A'th einioes yn y tir ond breuddwyd gwrach.
Er hyn, ni allwn d'adael yn y baw
Yn sbort a chrechwen i'r genedlaeth hon,
Dy ryddid gynd sydd gleddyf yn ein llaw,
A'th urddas sydd yn astalch ar ein bron,
A chydiwn yn ein gwayw a gyrru'r meirch
Rhag cywilyddio'r tadau yn eu heirch.

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