Mae un o selsig Franz Kafka wedi marw. Mae Franz Kafka’n drist. Mae e’n llefain.
– Beth ddigwyddodd i’r selsigen? gofynna Daf y gath, heb ddiddordeb.
– Clefyd byr, meddai Kafka, sydd yn rhyfeddol o fach.
– Beth am i ni drefnu angladd? Byddai’n esgus da am barti. Gallen ni ffrio’r corff a’i rannu.
Mae Kafka yn llefain mwy. Mae e’n teimlo’n brudd iawn.
Saesneg / English
Funeral
One of Franz Kafka’s sausages is dead. Franz Kafka is sad. He is crying.
– What happened to the sausage? asks Dave the cat, uninterested.
– A short illness, says Kafka, who is remarkably small.
– Why don’t we arrange a funeral? It would be a good excuse for a party. We could fry the body and share it.
Kafka cries more. He feels very sad.
