Fe ddeallwn wenoliad,
briwsion ar fwrdd yr ardd,
yn llygad y drws.
Deallwn eu llwgu,
eu hawydd i dorri bara a ni.
Ac onid adar ydym ninnau,
adar nid o'r unlliw?
Eto'r entrych yw'r encil,
unigedd yn pigo'r pridd.
Ac ym mhob ffurfafen
mae mudo, cymysgu
a'r ddaear am nodded.
Fforddoloion ar aden,
eu clwyfo gan hanes,
yn chwilio o'r newydd, nyth,
man gwyn i orffwys.
Yr adar, a'u plu cynness?
Dylent gofio yr heb-ogion,
yn seri'r tir,
yn chwilio'r tir comin.
Un wen, a wna wanwyn,
un wnnol yn llunio'r haf.
Bird we understand,
spend crumbs in garden,
at back-door's eye;
undertand their need
to break bread with us.
And are we not birds who
don't always flock together?
The sky a high refuge,
lonely, knowing we'll land, meet
beak's needs, at heartbreak
And in every firmament
migrators mingle, mixing
heaven and earth for shelter,
wayfarers a-wing,
histories' hurted,
seeking anew a nest,
a fair resting-place.
So those birds, warm-feathered,
should remember the withouters
scouring the soil
in search of common ground.
One smile a spring,
one swallow making summer.
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