Mae Waldo Williams wedi mynd i’r dyfodol, achos yr oedd e’n rhatlan ymlaen ar ei fotor-beic ar gyflymder o wyth deg wyth milltir yr awr.
Aeth y motor-beic ar dân, a nawr mae Waldo’n sefyll ynghanol y sgwâr yng Nghrymych wrth ochr ei weddillion mudlosg.
Digwydd bod, mae’r dyfodol yn ddychrynllyd.
Mae arwyddion Saesneg ym mhobman, hyd yn oed yng Nghrymych.
O diar.
Beth yw’r dyddiad?
Yr ail o Fawrth, tair mil dau ddeg pump.
Mawredd!
Arhoswch am eiliad. Pam mae cromlechi ym mhobman? Pam mae poster enfawr o Daf y gath ym mhob un ffenestr? A pham mae cerflun o’r enwog Kate Roberts yn dienyddio pysgodyn ynghanol y sgwâr?
Mawredd!
Mae’r dyfodol yn ddigon i’ch drysu’n lân.
Oes ‘na rywun sy’n gallu trwsio hen fotor-beic rhydlyd?
Nac oes.
Damo!
Saesneg / English
The future
Waldo Williams has gone to the future, because he was rattling along on his motorbike at a speed of eighty-eight miles an hour.
The motorbike caught fire, and now Waldo is standing in the middle of the square in Crymych next to its smouldering remains.
As it happens, the future is terrifying.
There are English signs everywhere, even in Crymych.
Oh dear.
What is the date?
The second of March, three thousand and twenty-five.
Goodness!
Wait a moment. Why are there cromlechs everywhere? Why is there an enormous poster of Dave the cat in every window? And why is there a statue of the famous Kate Roberts executing a fish in the middle of the square?
Goodness!
The future is very confusing.
Is there anyone who can fix a rusty old motorbike?
No there isn’t.
Damn!