Lloer Dirion Lliw'r Dydd / Gentle Moon the Colour of Day
Cerddoriaeth a geiriau / Music and lyrics - Tradd./Trad.
Geiriau'r ail bennill / Second verse lyrics - John Ceiriog Hughes (1832-1887)
Trefniant / Arrangement - GBRh, GM, PR, MF

Lloer dirion lliw’r dydd,

mewn poen ac mewn penyd,

mewn breuddwyd rwy’n brudd.

Trwy syndod rhyw syw,

mae’r galon mor gwla,

ni fyddai fawr fyw.

Pan welais dy wedd ti a’m clwyfaist fel cledd,

ces ddolur heb wybod,

rwyf heno’n un hynod,

yn barod i’m bedd.

O dduwies fwyn dda, clyw glwyfus ddyn cla’,

o safia fy mywyd, loer hyfryd liw’r Haf.

Mae rhai sydd a’u bryd ar bethau y byd,

ond ar lendid lloer wiwlan

rhoes i fy holl amcan yn gyfan i gyd.

Pe cawn ond tydi, mi ddwedwn yn hy’

fod digon o gyfoeth, wen eneth, gen i.

 

Lloer dirion lliw’r dydd,

dy olau di welaf,

yr hygar ei grudd.

O’r bywyd i’r bedd, ti yw fy mrenhines,

gain gynnes ei gwedd.

Tydi ydyw tân, ysbrydoliaeth fy nghân.

Ni wêl y ffurfafen, trwy olau tro heulwen,

un loerwen mor lân.

Mi godaf fy ‘mhen, eiddunaf i’r nen,

tywynna di arnai liw’r eira loer wen.

Ar leuad mae rhai yn rhoddi y bai

am dynnu dwfn eigion

y moroedd mawr meirwon i lanw a thrai,

ond ti’r lân ei grudd yn tynnu y sydd

linynnau fy nghalon, loer dirion liw’r dydd.

Gentle moon the colour of day,

in pain and in sorrow, I’m in a sad daydream.

From splendid astonishment,

my heart is so weak I shan’t live much longer.

When I saw your face you wounded me like a sword,

I received an injury without realising it,

tonight I’m ready for my grave.

Oh good gentle goddess, hear this injured man,

save my life, lovely moon the colour of summer.

Some people’s interests lie in material things,

but on the purity of a fair moon

I gave my whole intentions, one and all.

If I could only have you, I would confidently proclaim

that I had more than enough wealth, pure girl.

 

Gentle moon the colour of day,

I see your light, you with a pleasing face.

From life to the grave, you are my queen,

fair warm farced one.

You are my fire, the inspiration to my song,

the heavens never did behold

through the light of the sun’s cycle,

such a wonderful sight.

I raise up my head, and look to the skies,

shine upon me, white moon the colour of snow.

Some hold the moon responsible

for pulling the threads and strings of the seas,

the ebb and flow of the tides in and out.

But you, my love, are responsible

for pulling the strings of my heart,

gentle moon the colour of day.