Hon (This) T.H. Parry Williams
Posted: Thu Dec 06, 2007 10:26 pm
T.H. Parry Williams (1887-1975) was a lyrical poet, writer, and University Professor, and is considered to be one of the greatest Welsh poets of all time. His most famous poem 'Hon' offers a stark contrast to other Welsh poets of his time, in that in a time of searching for the 'Welsh way', questioning of the relevence of Welsh culture, and the blame for the country's problems falling on the Saeson (English), Parry-Williams shows how sometimes problems can be closer to home, and generated by ourselves in bitterness at one's history. Interestingly, this is a key theme in the works of a later lyrical poet - Seamus Heaney, who expounds that the damage that has been done to Ireland at the hands of the English is in the past, and it is now indeed the Irish themselves whom are causing more problems. Also of interest is the fact that word 'Hon' is used in a feminine way, suggesting that Wales is female, and Engand is male, which is reminiscient of 'Rape of the Fair Country', and also again of Seamus Heaney, who identifies Ireland as feminine, and England as masculine.
The eleven couplets of Iambic Heptameter have been lost in this translation.
Hon
Beth yw’r ots gennyf i am Gymru? Damwain a hap
Yw fy mod yn ei libart yn byw. Nid yw hon ar fap
Yn ddim byd ond cilcyn o ddaear mewn cilfach gefn,
Ac yn dipyn o boendod i’r rhai sy’n credu mewn trefn.
A phwy sy’n trigo’n y fangre, dwedwch i mi.
Dim ond gwehilion o boblach? Peidiwch, da chwi
 chlegar am uned a chenedl a gwlad o hyd;
Mae digon o’r rhain, heb Gymru, i’w cael yn y byd.
Rwyf wedi alaru ers talm ar glywed grwn
Y Cymry bondigrybwyll, yn cadw swn.
Mi af am dro, i osgoi eu lleferydd a’i llên,
Yn ôl i’m cynefin gynt, a’m dychymyg yn drên.
A dyma fi yno. Diolch am fod ar goll
Ymhell o gyffro geiriau’r eithafwyr oll.
Dyma’r Wyddfa a’i chriw; dyma lymder a moelni’r tir;
Dyma’r llyn a’r afon a’r clogwyn; ac, ar fy ngwir,
Dacw’r ty lle’m ganed. Ond wele, rhwng llawr a ne’
Mae lleisiau a drychiolaeth ar hyd y lle.
Rwy’n dechrau simsanu braidd; ac meddaf i chwi,
Mae rhyw ysictod fel petai’n dod drosof i;
Ac mi glywaf grafangau Cymru’n dirdynnu fy mron.
Duw a’m gwaredo, ni allaf ddianc rhag hon.
This
What do I care of Wales? It is by accident and chance
That I am living here freely. She isn't on a map
And is nothing but a piece of land in a hidden creek,
And a bit of a nuisance to those who believe in order.
And who dwells in this place? tell me.
Who but the dregs of its people? Make sure you don't
Cackle about unities and nations and countries all the time:
There are enough of those without Wales, to have in this world.
I have surfeited for some time with all this groaning.
The Welsh, high and mighty, making their noise.
I go for a walk, to avoid their speeches and literature,
Back to familiarity, with my imagination amiss.
And now I am there. Thank you for being lost
And far from the excitement of their extremist words.
This is Snowdon and its crew; this is the sharpness and the baldness of the land;
This is the lake and the river and the cliff; and upon my word
This is the place of my birth. But look, between Earth and heaven
There are voices and spectres all over the place.
I'm starting to become unsteady now; and I'll say to you,
There is some weariness washing over me;
And I can hear Wales' claws torturing my breast.
God save me, for I cannot leave this place
Gareth
The eleven couplets of Iambic Heptameter have been lost in this translation.
Hon
Beth yw’r ots gennyf i am Gymru? Damwain a hap
Yw fy mod yn ei libart yn byw. Nid yw hon ar fap
Yn ddim byd ond cilcyn o ddaear mewn cilfach gefn,
Ac yn dipyn o boendod i’r rhai sy’n credu mewn trefn.
A phwy sy’n trigo’n y fangre, dwedwch i mi.
Dim ond gwehilion o boblach? Peidiwch, da chwi
 chlegar am uned a chenedl a gwlad o hyd;
Mae digon o’r rhain, heb Gymru, i’w cael yn y byd.
Rwyf wedi alaru ers talm ar glywed grwn
Y Cymry bondigrybwyll, yn cadw swn.
Mi af am dro, i osgoi eu lleferydd a’i llên,
Yn ôl i’m cynefin gynt, a’m dychymyg yn drên.
A dyma fi yno. Diolch am fod ar goll
Ymhell o gyffro geiriau’r eithafwyr oll.
Dyma’r Wyddfa a’i chriw; dyma lymder a moelni’r tir;
Dyma’r llyn a’r afon a’r clogwyn; ac, ar fy ngwir,
Dacw’r ty lle’m ganed. Ond wele, rhwng llawr a ne’
Mae lleisiau a drychiolaeth ar hyd y lle.
Rwy’n dechrau simsanu braidd; ac meddaf i chwi,
Mae rhyw ysictod fel petai’n dod drosof i;
Ac mi glywaf grafangau Cymru’n dirdynnu fy mron.
Duw a’m gwaredo, ni allaf ddianc rhag hon.
This
What do I care of Wales? It is by accident and chance
That I am living here freely. She isn't on a map
And is nothing but a piece of land in a hidden creek,
And a bit of a nuisance to those who believe in order.
And who dwells in this place? tell me.
Who but the dregs of its people? Make sure you don't
Cackle about unities and nations and countries all the time:
There are enough of those without Wales, to have in this world.
I have surfeited for some time with all this groaning.
The Welsh, high and mighty, making their noise.
I go for a walk, to avoid their speeches and literature,
Back to familiarity, with my imagination amiss.
And now I am there. Thank you for being lost
And far from the excitement of their extremist words.
This is Snowdon and its crew; this is the sharpness and the baldness of the land;
This is the lake and the river and the cliff; and upon my word
This is the place of my birth. But look, between Earth and heaven
There are voices and spectres all over the place.
I'm starting to become unsteady now; and I'll say to you,
There is some weariness washing over me;
And I can hear Wales' claws torturing my breast.
God save me, for I cannot leave this place
Gareth