pickneed habs in slunder covals
hicked and snayed at fair Medusa
agitated by her beauty
and the statues in her keep
all the while a stranger climbing
sword and shield upon his back  

by the entrance stood Medusa
as the pogwach sninckled closer
and the caliwhisps outgrabe
o'er the cliff she peered in wonder
at the beast's ascent towards her
gallow broamsmade in her heart

then, at last, he reached the cornice
rose and stood in briersome glaw
never facing fair Medusa
though the urge was thick and glarn
helpless there she stood in silence
motionless her angsome fra

all at once the blade ascended
snicker-snack and finished all
fair Medusa's life was ended
the wrickling beast now turned and saw
saw the pallid stoney visage
saw and wept in sloamy spow

In the hollow where the white hazels grow,
Yn nyffryn lle mae’r colomen yn nythu’n isel,
A name was born from the breath of snow,
Enw hir sy’n dawnsio fel awel ddistaw.
It rolls like thunder from mountain to shore,
Yn taranu trwy’r cymoedd, o fôr i fôr.
Not just a word, but a legend spun,
Stori sy’n dechrau dan haul a lloer.
Llanfair speaks with a saint’s soft grace,
Ac mae Tysilio’n gwenu yn y lle distaw,
While whirlpools churn at a rapid pace,
Ger drobwll gwyllt sy’n siglo’r galon graw.
The church and the cave stand side by side,
Eglwys a thir yn rhannu’r un llais,
One for the living, one for the tide,
Un dros y cof, un dros y daith.
Say it once if your lungs are strong,
Ond paid ag ofni os mae'n cymryd hir,
The name’s not short, but the heart is long,
Mae cariad y lle yn para drwy'r dir.
A village of stories, a song without end,
Pentref sy’n canu tan nos yn y glaw,
A tangle of letters, a curve, a bend,
Yn torri’r tafod ond yn llenwi’r awyr law.
They laughed the first time they saw the sign,
Ond clywodd y gwynt ei seinio’n gain,
Too many letters, a puzzle made,
Fel carreg wedi’i gerfio’n wnaed.
But say it once, and the valley hears,
Mae’r enw’n dawnsio dros flynyddoedd hir.
It lives in voices, old and young,
A’r plant yn ei ganu gyda’u tafod llyg.
No need to cut it down to size,
Mae pob sill yn rhan o’r wyrth yn llais.
It tells of saints, and storms, and stone,
Ac enaid y wlad, o’r tir i’r don.
Not just a name, but something more —
Mae’n allwedd i hanes, a’r drws i’r drôr.
The tongue may twist, the lungs may burn,
Ond mae’r galon yn cofio, yn dal i dŵr.
When strangers fumble on foreign tongues,
Maent yn clymu geiriau fel crys wedi’u hangori,
They learn anew what music hums,
Pan glywedant y galon yn curo’n gari.
Old villagers grin with knowing eyes,
Yn cofleidio’r enw fel hen ŵyl y wawr,
For every sound recalls the skies,
Pan adlewyrchir haul dros fryniau mawr.
Beneath each letter lies a soul,
O dan y sill, mae hanes wedi’i ffwrio,
A tapestry of voice made whole,
Gwehyddu geiriau’n fyw, yn ysbrydio.
Speak it once and you belong,
Un gair sy’n uno’r tir a’r môr,
In every heart it’s heard as song,
Yn curo’n un, heb ffin nac gôl.
Final Recitation
"Saint Mary's Church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the Church of Saint Tysilio of the red cave."

Llanfair­pwll­gwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­­gogo­goch

"The name sings, the name lives once again, the name reigns supreme."
Mae’r enw’n canu, mae’r enw’n byw.unwaith eto, mae’r enw’n goruchwyli.