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Cyfrolau | Published Work

 

Perffaith Nam

Hancesi Hanes | Handkerchief Stories

Cyhoeddir gan Chapter

Wales' internationally-acclaimed poet, Menna Elfyn, will read a new poem commissioned by Chapter for the occasion.

Handkerchief Stories continues Elfyn's reputation as a poet who combines evocative language with understated but daring politics.
Elfyn is a poet and playwright who writes with passion of the Welsh language and identity. She has published seven volumes of Welsh-language poetry and her work has been translated into 15 languages.


Hancesi Hanes

‘not what the stars have done
but what they are to do
is what detains the sky’.
Emily Dickinson

Yn yr awyr, mae diwyg
Yn gwisgo'r nos yn loywddu,
A daw seren bach a llygad
I'r golwg
A chwiff o hem yn rhydd,
Ac yn y tu hwntdod,
hancesi bychain wedi'u gwasgu
yn llaw fawr y ffurfafen.
Islaw, ydym, yn gwylio hyn
 rhyfeddod yn ein ple:
El mundo es un pañuelo:
dyw'r byd ddim yn fwy
na hances poced.
Â'r wireb yn ddwy:
Eang yw'r byd i bawb;
Wrth im estyn llaw
A chyfarch macynon y sêr;
A thry'r hances yn gynfas gwely
Yn siglo'n gras yn y gwynt;
Syllaf eto, a dont fel hwyliau
A r draws ffurfafen
Wrth chwilio porthladd las.
Da cael ynys mewn môr mawr:
Ac ym Malta mae'r môr
Fel bol meddal a phen caled
Wrth i longau gwtsho'n y bae.
A thu hwnt i'r sêr-
Llenni sy'n tryloywi-
Llestri gorau'r nen yn ddisglair
Ac nid oes llen haearn yno,
Dim ond lês, a llin a lleisiau
A ddolennodd, hyd nes uno,
gwnio siolau i'r siwrne hir.
A lle bu hanes yn sychu dagrau
Yn gwyntyllu gofidiau
Daw crimpio hancesi
Yn obenyddion esmwyth,
Yna'n hwyliau ofnus,
Yn ddefnyddiau pwyth dros bwyth,
A syllu o'r newydd wnawn ar y nen,
Gweld gwead newydd,
A'n dal i ddwyn o'r delweddau
Liain sy'n gwreslynu hanes.


Handkerchief Stories

‘not what the stars have done
but what they are to do
is what detains the sky’.
Emily Dickinson

A garment in the sky
Is dressing the night a sheeny
Black. And a star’s hook and eye
Is seen, a slit of hem too
Hanging loose awhile and beyond
Handkerchiefs all crumpled up
In the firmament’s big hand.
Below, we’re gazers
Of wonderment
El mundo es un pañuelo:
the world is as big
as a handkerchief.
Proverbs pour forth:
eang yw’r byd i bawb:
the world is a small parish,
and as I reach out my hand
to greet the stars
the hanky doubles as bedsheet,
rocking, aired in the wind’s scent.
I look again and sails go by
Across the sky
Searching for a blue harbour.
Da cael ynys mewn môr mawr:
Good to have an island
In a big sea,
and in Malta,
The sea has a soft belly
But a hard head,
As ships cwtsh up in the bay.
And beyond the stars
See through drapes and a table:
Best crockery in the dark, shine through
No Iron curtain there,
only lace, flax and voices
Handles, for fingers to hold on to,
And shawls for a long journey.
New stories too along the way,
Wipe away tears,
Fanning all sorrows,
Crisp handkerchiefs:
Restful pillows,
The hesitant sails,
And cloth, stitch over stitch.
We look anew on May day,
At new seams in the stars,
Holding images for us-

Linen to iron on history.