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Fe ddaeth cerdd y bardd a’r academydd Refaat Alareer, If I Must Die, yn dorcalonnus o wir yn sgil ei farwolaeth yn Shujaiya ar Rhagfyr 6ed, dan law byddin Israel. Dim ond dyddiau ynghynt fe bostiodd y gerdd ar ei gyfrif X/ Twitter. Fe’i rhannwyd yn eang ers hynny ac chafodd ei throsi yn gelfydd i’r Gymraeg gan Iestyn Tyne.
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Poet and academic Refaat Alareer’s poem, If I Must Die, became heartbreakingly true in the wake of his death in Shujaiya on December 6th, by the Israeli army. Just days before he had pinned the poem to his X / Twitter account. It was widely shared and it has been skilfully translated into Welsh by Iestyn Tyne. |
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Rydym yn falch o rannu cerdd newydd gan ein llywydd Menna Elfyn i gofio am Refaat, yn ymateb i’r gerdd. Cerdd gadwyn – i gofio Refaat Alareer Ac weithiau dim ond cerdd-ffwrdd -a -hi yw’r un sy’n cyfri, a’th gerdd am anfon barcud i’r awyr yn ein clyw. Achos ti bellach yw’r achos dros lunio rhes o eiriau na allant aros… A thi yw’r chwedl bellach, sy’n croesi o genedl i genedl o’r awen i’r galon, am iddynt ddwyn dy anadl, a’th ddadl dros firi byw, a’th eiriau yn dal yr awel heb deml o deimlad- na lleddfu greddf gŵr, oed gwaseidd-dra, ac nid all ein griddfan o alargan ddal llinyn dy farcud plentyn ond gallwn edrych i’r entrych gweld o’r newydd y rhai dan sawdl yno’n dawel yn yr awel – sy mor driw o -drwyadl dros gyfannedd, annedd, rhai newydd eu geni; o’r tu draw yn alaw ynom, nad oes atal iddi – ac nad distadl y werin na diraid— ond lliaws a’u dadl dros anian – eu mangre – Palesteina— edrychwch eto ac fe welwch o’r llinyn ollyngwyd yn rhydd yn ei law y barcud yn cyhwfan uwchben. Menna Elfyn
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We are pleased to share a new poem by our president Menna Elfyn in memory of Refaat, inspired by the poem.
A chain poem – in memory of Refaat Alareer Sometimes only a slap-dash poem will do, with your lines on launching a kite to the wind in our ears. Because now, you are the reason to line up the words that cannot wait… And you are now the story, crossing continents that inspires the heart, for they took your breath, and your plea for life’s pleasures, and your words are on the wind without a temple of feelings – nor an easing of a man’s instinct in servility, and our wailing elegies cannot catch your child’s kite string but we can look up to the sky and see in the wind the downtrodden and silent anew – those so true -and stoic for settling, for homes, those newly born; from afar a song within us, that will not cease – and not the lowly peasants nor the wicked — but a host who speak for creation – their location – Palestine— look again and you will see, from the string released freely from his hand the kite flying high above. Menna Elfyn (translation by Nici Beech)
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