Un tro, ar ôl iddi lyfu ei thraed am oriau, daeth Daf y gath o hyd i eirinen ar waelod yr ardd. Tew a phorffor oedd yr eirinen, a sgleiniog.
– Helo, meddai’r eirinen. – Eirinen dw i.
– Wes enw ‘da ti? gofynnodd Daf.
– O’s. Keith dw i.
– Na, ti ddim, meddai Daf. – Mae Keith ‘da ni yn barod. Y gorden draw fan ‘co.
Ystumiodd Daf tuag at Keith y gordyn. Ddwedodd Keith y gordyn ddim byd.
– Na i d’alw di’n Sara.
– Ond bachgen dw i.
– Ie. Wes ‘na broblem? meddai Daf yn fygythiol.
Trodd yr eirinen mewn prwnsen mewn embaras.
– Nag o’s, ildiodd e o’r diwedd.
Saesneg / English
One day, after she had licked her feet for hours, Dave the cat found a plum at the bottom of the garden. The plum was plump and purple, and shiny.
– Hello, said the plum. – I’m a plum.
– Do you have a name? Dave asked.
– Yes. I’m Keith.
– No, you’re not, said Daf. We already have a Keith. The gourd over there.
Daf gestured towards Keith the gourd. Keith the gourd said nothing.
– I’ll call you Sara.
– But I’m a boy.
– Yes. Is there a problem? said Dave threateningly.
The plum turned into a prune in embarrassment.
– No, he finally gave in.
