Roedd yr awduron i gyd wedi bod yn ymarfer eu tractora creadigol.
Roedd Saunders Lewis wedi bod yn jyglo ei swsaffon ar gefn ei dractor tra oedd Kate Roberts a T. H. Parry-Williams yn canu caneuon Dafydd Iwan ar ei ffidlau yn y glaw.
Ond mae damwain wedi bod.
Ym muarth y ganolfan grefft, mae cwstard ym mhobman, ynghyd â darnau mawr o fetel a phedwar awdur Cymraeg wedi eu drysu.
— Be ddigwyddodd? gofyn Dewi Sant. — Wen i ddim yn gwylio.
— Wê Waldo Williams wedi rhoid gormod o ffrwydron yn ‘i ddrwm bas ar gyfer ei ddiweddglo dramatig e, ‘na i gyd, etyb Daf y gath.
— Na i dacluso, medd Santes Dwynwen.
— Weldo, medd yr enwog Bryn Teribl.
— Beth? gofyn Waldo.
Ac felly maen nhw’n parhau. Am oriau.
Saesneg / English
Accident
All the writers had been practising their creative tractoring.
Saunders Lewis had been juggling his sousaphone on the back of his tractor while Kate Roberts and T. H. Parry-Williams were playing Dafydd Iwan’s songs on their fiddles in the rain.
But there has been an accident.
In the craft centre courtyard, there is custard everywhere, along with large pieces of metal and four confused Welsh writers.
— What happened? asks Saint David. – I wasn’t watching.
— Waldo Williams had put too many explosives in his bass drum for his dramatic finale, that’s all, says Dave the cat.
— I’ll tidy up, says Saint Dwynwen.
— Welding, says the famous Bryn Teribl.
— What? asks Waldo.
And so they continue. For hours.
