Un tro, roedd Jeff y gath yn garddio.
– Daf, meddai hi, – Dere fan hyn. Mae gen i arboretwm!
Cododd Daf ael.
– So hwnna’n arboretwm, meddai Daf, heb ddiddordeb.
– Wel, coedwig ‘te.
– Potyn o chwyn yw e, meddai Daf yn wfftiol, a bant â fe i weld yr Archfadarch.
Cuddiodd Franz Kafka tu ôl i’r potyn o chwyn. Roedd e’n fach iawn.
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Saesneg / English
The Arboretum
One day, Jeff the cat was gardening.
– Dave, she said, – Come here. I’ve got an arboretum.
Dave raised an eyebrow.
– That’s not an arboretum, he said, without interest.
– Well, a forest then.
– It’s a pot of weeds, said Dave dismissively, and off he went to see the Arch-mushroom.
Franz Kafka hid behind the pot of weeds. He was very small.
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