Sea Mist and Sand at Penarth

Wedi wythnos yn sownd wrth sgriniau, codais yn gynnar a dal y trên i Benarth am dro ar y traeth.

After a week stuck to screens, I got up early and caught the train to Penarth for a walk on the beach.

Awel hallt yn clirio'r pen, a thonnau'n rholio fel pe baent yn sibrwd, 'paid â phoeni'.

A salty breeze was clearing my head, and waves rolled as if they were whispering, "don't worry."

Fel sy'n digwydd yn aml, tynnais fy esgidiau ac es i gerdded, yr esgidiau yn llaw, ar hyd y tywod mân.

As so often, I took off my shoes and went walking, shoes in hand, along the fine sand.

Plentyn a'i fam yn hela crancod dan y pier; cadwais lygad ar y llanw'n codi'n ddigon slei.

A child and her mother were crab-hunting under the pier; I kept an eye on the tide creeping up slyly.

Cyn bo hir, cipiodd ci o'r enw Mabli fy mrechdan, a'i pherchennog hi'n ymddiheuro'n bendramwnwgl fel petai'n adrodd pennill.

Before long, a dog called Mabli snatched my sandwich, and her owner apologised profusely as if reciting a verse.

Chwarddais a rhannais darn o gacen a phaned o'r fflasg; roedd y foment yn torri'r iâ rhwng dieithriaid.

I laughed and shared a slice of cake and a cuppa from the flask; the moment broke the ice between strangers.

Llifiodd niwl y môr dros y bae fel llen denau, a dim ond seiniau'r tonnau oedd i'w clywed, yn seinio fel orgân mewn capel.

Sea mist flowed over the bay like a thin curtain, and only the sound of the waves could be heard, ringing like an organ in a chapel.

Pan chwiblodd y gwynt y niwl o'r neilltu, gwelais hen ddyn yn codi brwyn a darnau o bren fel petai'n casglu straeon.

When the wind whisked the mist aside, I noticed an old man lifting reeds and bits of wood as if gathering stories.

Eisteddais ato am sbel, a rhwng llyncadau o de dywedodd fod y traeth yn ddarlith agored: pawb yn darllen, pawb yn gadael marc.

I sat with him for a while, and between gulps of tea he said the beach is an open lecture: everyone reads, everyone leaves a mark.

Drwy'r sgwrs collwyd amser, a phan sylweddolais, roedd y llanw bron at fy nhraed; troais ar fy sawdl a symudais gyda'r dŵr, nid yn ei erbyn.

Time slipped by in our chat, and when I realised, the tide was almost at my feet; I turned on my heel and moved with the water, not against it.

Ar y diwedd, wrth fynd yn ôl tua'r orsaf, teimlais yn ysgafnach nag oeddwn wedi bod ers talwm—fel pe bawn wedi ailosod y cloc y tu mewn i mi.

In the end, walking back to the station, I felt lighter than I had in ages—as if I’d reset the clock inside me.