Coed iawngof yn cadw angerdd, Cist ddofn pedair colofn cerdd. Ofer sôn ddeutu Conwy Acw i'w mysg bricio mwy. Oes a wyr, cyff pensaer cerdd, Acw atgan cwlwm cytgerdd? Claddwyd brig miwsig mesur, Cleddyf cerdd, cael addef cur. Drud awdur di-rwd ydoedd, Diofer iawn i'r difr oedd. Annoeth yw'r hynt, aeth y rhawg I dud drimwchl odidawg. Brau sadwych heb rus ydoedd, Bar a ffrwyth Aberffro oedd. Anaml fal hwn, Brytwn brau, Wr a fedr ei brofiadau. [Alas, I know that it is always so, farewell pure song And may it be worthless to know the mesur. We have the young people complaining in vain [Because] the five melodious cyweiriau [tunings] have been shut away [It is] too wretched a price, too long an anguish To put the four cadeiriau in concealment. A cold bitter journey, an oak coffin has been made And room for the music at the bottom of the coffin; Its wood, full of memory, holds the passion, The deep coffin of the four colofnau of music. There is not point in talking any more around Conwy About 'pricking' music amongst them, Is there anyone over there, of the lineage of music's architect, Who knows the song of the cwlwm cytgerdd? The leader of music's measures has been buried, The sword of music, we have to admit anguish. He was a bold and polished author, He was very earnest for the difr. It is a foolish journey, he has now gone To the land of the glorious tri mwchl He was generous, fine and steady, and withour fear, He was the scion and fruit of Aberffraw. Rare is such as he, the generous Welshman, A man who knows his profìadau.] Translated by Glenda Carr Cyfieithwyd gan Glenda Carr