Daeth Daf o hyd i flwch cardbord delfrydol am wneud roced. Roedd e’n ysgafn ac yn eitha bach, ond yn ddigon mawr i gario’r ddwy gath.
Craffodd Jeff ar y blwch.
– Beth am siwtie gofod? Ni angen siwtie gofod. Byddwn ni’n mygu fel arall.
– Wes siop siwtiau gofod yn yr ardal? gofynnodd Daf, yn obeithiol.
– Nag oes, meddai Jeff. – Bydd bagie plastig yn neud y tro, mwy na thebyg.
– Sdim bag plastig ‘da fi, meddai Daf yn anobeithiol.
– Cer i ofyn i Dewi Sant, meddai Jeff, a rhedeg bant ar ôl llygoden.
Roedd Dewi Sant yn brysur yn ei sied yng nghwmni Santes Dwynwen o hyd.
-Ble bydda i’n dod o hyd i bagie plastig, tybed? meddyliodd Daf, wrth i Franz Kafka ddychwelyd o siopa. Roedd e wedi prynu nifer mawr o selsig, a’u dadlwythodd, yn paratoi i’w cuddio.
Fe wnaeth Daf ddwyn bagiau Kafka yn syth ar ôl iddo orffen ei waith. Yn fuan, byddai’n barod i fynd i’r gofod, o’r diwedd.
Saesneg / English
Dave and Jeff in space, part 2
Dave found an ideal cardboard box for making a rocket. It was light and quite small, but big enough to carry both cats.
Jeff scrutinized the box.
– What about space suits? We need space suits. We’ll suffocate otherwise.
– Is there a space suit shop in the area? asked Dave, hopefully.
– No, said Jeff. – Plastic bags will probably do.
– I don’t have a plastic bag, said Dave hopelessly.
– Ask St David, said Jeff, and ran off after a mouse.
St David was still busy in his shed with St Dwynwen.
– Where do I find plastic bags, I wonder? thought Daf, as Franz Kafka returned from shopping. He had bought a large number of sausages, which he had unloaded, preparing to hide them. Dave stole Kafka’s bags immediately after he finished his work. Soon, she would be ready to go into space, at last.
