Un tro, roedd Santes Dwynwen wedi gadael yr ardd am sbel, er mwyn cael bach o hyfforddiant. Roedd hi wedi gofyn i ychydig o angylion ddysgu iddi wneud rhywbeth gwahanol i’w chwstard cariad. Yn ddiweddar, nid oedd yr hylif hudolus hwnnw wedi bod yn gweithio’n ogystal ag o’r blaen. Welodd y cathod mo’i adael.
– Ble mae Santes Dwynwen? gofynnodd Jeff i Dewi Sant, a oedd yn amlwg yn anhapus iawn am y peth.
– Bant, meddai Dewi Sant, yn amneidio’n annelwig.
– Beth mae hi’n neud?
– Bant.
Edau rhy dynn a dyr, meddyliodd Jeff yn ddiarhebionol, a mynd… bant.
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Saesneg / English
Away
One day, Saint Dwynwen had left the garden for a while, in order to get a bit of training. She had asked a few angels to teach her to make something different from her love custard. Lately, that magic potion hadn’t been working as well as before. The cats didn’t see her leave.
– Where’s Saint Dwynwen? Jeff asked Saint David, who was obviously unhappy about it.
– Away, said Saint David, gesturing vaguely.
– What’s she doing?
– Away.
The thread that is too taut breaks, thought Jeff proverbially, and went… away.
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