Pam fod brechdanau’n fenywaidd?
(A chwestiynau difyr eraill)
Y Llinell, nid y linell.
Y llong, y llinyn, y llyfr, y llwyn.
Mae Sali Mali’n cyfri’r brechdanau,
Un, dwy, tair, pedair,
Gan mai benywaidd yw brechdanau ynte?
Ond pam fod brechdanau’n fenywaidd?
A sut mae gwybod pryd i dreiglo –
A phryd i beidio?
Meddal, trwynol, llaes, Cysefin.
Mae gen i’r tabl ym mlaen fy ngeiriadur,
Ond waeth iddo fod am fecaneg cwantwm ar y blaned Siwenna wir!
A beth am yr acen grom te?
a’r symbolau deniadol eraill?
Maen nhw’n edrych yn neis iawn ar y dudalen,
Ac yn ychwanegu ryw Je ne se quoi at enwau pobl,
Mae’n rhaid i mi gyfaddef,
Siôn, Siân, Llŷr ag Andrèa.
Ond dwi’n methu’n glir a chofio’r rheolau,
Ac maen nhw’n niwsans i’w teipio ‘fyd –
Codau cymhleth fel rhyw fath o semaffor hunllefus,
Mae’n ddigon i gadw rhywun rhag blogio!
A sut mae sgwennu’r dyddiad hyd yn oed?
-af, -fed, -ydd, -ed,
A pam fod rhai pethe yn un-deg-tri,
Tra bod eraill yn dair-ar-ddeg?
Rwy’n ddieithryn i iaith fy nghalon –
Mewn pob ffordd “cywir” beth bynnag.
Ag eto, mae yna brydferthwch i’r cymhlethdod.
Hen iaith urddasol, swynol, cyfriniol,
A’i idiomau pert a’i eiriau barddonol.
Mae yna ddyfnder sy’n deillio o’i hanes maith,
A’r traddodiadau morffolegol yng ngwreiddiau’r iaith.
Y mae cyfoeth yn deillio o’r tafodieithoedd niferus,
A sioncrwydd yn yr ymennydd pan fo Cymraeg ar y wefus.
Ac felly rwy’n fodlon straffaglu â marciau diacritig,
Am yr anrhydedd o ‘sgrifennu yn yr iaith fendigedig.
Anwesaf yn awr y teg, tecach, a’r teced,
A’r drud, y drutach, y drutaf, a’r dryted.
Y mae’n bleser i ddysgu sut i gywiro fy ngwallau,
A dysgu’r ffordd orau i gyfrif brechdanau.
Cerdd yw hon megis steil ac ysbryd “The Wife of Bafa” gan Patience Agbabi ac “Over the llestri” gan Aled Lewis Evans (Ymsonau Dramatig). Cyhoeddwyd fel rhan o fy ngholofn Synfyrfion llenyddol, ym mhapur bro Wrecsam: Y Clawdd, Gorffennaf 2010 (Rhifyn 140). Yr wyf wedi rhoi cynnig ar cyfieuthiad isod./ This poem is written in a similar style and spirit to “The Wife of Bafa” by Patience Agbabi, and “Over the llestri” by Aled Lewis Evans (Dramatic Monologues). It was published in Welsh as part of my column Synfyfyrion Llenyddol (Literary Musings) in the Welsh language community newspaper Y Clawdd, July 2010 (Issue 140). I have attempted a translation below…
Why are sandwiches feminine?
(And other interesting questions)
The Llinell, not the linell.
The llong, the llinyn, the llyfr, the llwyn.
Sali Mali is counting the sandwiches,
Un, dwy, tair, pedair,
because sandwiches are feminine aren’t they?
But why are sandwiches feminine?
And how to know when to mutate –
and when not to?
Meddal, trwynol, llaes, Cysefin.
I have the table in the back of my dictionary,
But it may as well be on quantum physics from the planet Siwenna!
And what of the acen grom?
and other decorative symbols?
They look very nice on the page,
and add a Je ne se quoi to people’s names,
I must admit.
Siôn, Siân, Llŷr and Andrèa.
But I can’t for the life of me remember the rules,
and they’re a nuisance to type as well.
Complicated codes like some nightmarish semaphore,
it’s enough to keep someone from blogging!
And how to write the date even?
-af, -fed, -ydd, -ed,
And why are some things un-deg-tri,
While others are dair-ar-ddeg?
I’m a stranger to the language of my heart –
in every “correct” sense anyway.
And yet there’s a beauty which lies within the complexity,
Of the old tribal language shrouded in mystery.
With its pretty idioms and poetic phrases,
Steeped in a history which continually amazes.
Morphological traditions which contemporaries respect,
and the richness derived from each dialect.
A vivaciousness of spirit when Cymraeg is spoken,
So proud are we that it has not been forsaken.
And thus I am willing to study diacritics,
For the honour to write with their added aesthetics.
I’ll embrace now the teg, tecach, and teced,
the drud, the drutach, the drutaf, the dryted.
It’s a pleasure to learn how to correct my gwallau,
and to learn the correct way to count the brechdanau.
Sara Louise Wheeler 