As well as speaking in the ordinary way, it is possible for the voice to produce musical sounds through the process called singing. Some say that human singing is an accident of evolution that happened as a result of the development of language. However, others believe that singing developed first in the ancestors of humanity, preparing their vocal muscles for speaking. Despite that, it is certain that stories were recited in the form of memorable songs before they were written down. Singing and speaking are different to some extent, but very similar in various other ways. In the brain, there are several regions involved with both music and language. It appears that singing can help people who have had a stroke to speak, by training different parts of the brain to adopt new functions. Singing can be done individually or in a group, formally or informally, as part of a ritual or a religious service, for pleasure or reassurance, or as a hobby. It uses particular techniques, including the ability to follow complex rhythms, and to hold extended notes, and in order to sing well there is a need for time, education, commitment, and practice. It is alleged that singing has many health benefits, for example: strengthening the immune system, lowering blood pressure, improving breath-control and enunciation, and helping with information processing. With respect to psychological advantages, it appears that singing releases particular neurotransmitters in the brain, and so it helps to get rid of pent-up emotions, improving relaxation and increasing happiness. Many other species sing, including birds and whales. Some types of animals learn songs, whilst others sing extempore, or improvise. Sometimes, we note, gibbons sing in groups. 

 

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“The Sunsong”

 

From “True Folk Tales from the Heart of the Continent,” 

by Pjetër Mamrick (collector), translated by Daud Pekar, 

and with illustrations by Steffan Balrog Grossmann.

 

 

From the very earliest times, before memory, there was the One amongst Many, the Dazzling Sun. And he was alone, having lost himself in deep meditation, imagining and sighing, as if his tendrils of fire had become wrapped in a thick layer of yellow sand. And there he shone benevolently in the heavens for ages, knowing no-one apart from himself. And the mists came, and the clouds came, and the rains went away once again, but they could never extinguish his light. For the One’s light is life, which brings fruitfulness to the entire Planet also. 

 

Despite all that, fickle was the oceans’ spray, and the winds’ breath was mute, and the grass that grew luscious on the face of the Planet spoke not to the One who is Father to everything. And he was a lonely, white-hot heart in the heavens, who was waiting for something to happen. And with the passage of time, although there was nothing to measure it but the restlessness of the unique Light amongst the countless, distant stars, at long last, the Sun who shines over everyone wanted more than his own thoughts for company. 

 

So, in the same way that waves breaking on the beach wear away the shore, he reformed his dreams. Never before had he stared so intently at the stately trees, feeling each tiny movement of their branches. Now he experienced the joy that comes when scorched soil drinks fresh water; for the first time he recognised the excitement when buds sprout afresh. Then and there, as the One stopped to listen, all creation began to speak. And the One still shone on {Creation}.

 

In those days at the dawn of memory, far from anywhere, when the One would come down from the firmament, and the flowers spoke secrets, moving creatures of all kind – animals that run and hunt and mate, wildlife on the moors, fish in the sea, birds in the air, creeping things that slither, and insects that scurry – came to exist on the Planet, because the One used to walk the high lands and the plains alike without impediment, and as he did this, little by little he became entranced. The motion of every branch filled him full up with rejoicing, and as his experience intensified, he broke into song. 

 

Never before had any sound of the same kind been heard on the Yrth, nor even in the firmament, apart from the distant music of the heavenly places. And in that first instant when the thoughts of the One burst forth in spoken words, the Planet responded. The soil itself turned to thick, sticky fluid, and in places the rocks were smashed to smithereens, and even the beating of the Planet’s fiery heart could be heard. And then gradually, the molten lava, which had just been crying out from below the round World’s stony skin, began to break through the crust, spurting out and rising up in fingers of rocky liquid, which reached out towards the fresh air, before subsiding, and sloshing down to the depths of the Planet once again. 

 

Then, as peace descended, with the tender sighing of a breeze, the Sun began to notice the slightest amount of change. And in surprise the One watched all that was happening, but not in silence. For by now brand-new creatures were conversing with him, now, the russet, fleshy children of the soil assumed their own life for the first time. And from then on, the Planet would be totally different forevermore; and the Nw Yrth would be its new name. As the One who is above everything breathed quickly as a result of this miracle, the animals sensed the life-giving gust of wind, and drew up around him to sing their lives. And then the One proclaimed these words to all: 

 

While trees bear fruit they bend and are humble,

Full of rain, heavy clouds slumber in peace,

Those who move should shout and play joyously,

For that is the true meaning of life under the Sun.

 

Thus, it is from these beginnings, my children, that there came to be every moving creature which dwells with us today. But we were not made in the image of the One himself, to be like him, to be masters who rule over everything on the entire Planet not to mention in the Cosmos. He was not working under his own initiative either, to be perfectly honest, but rather, he was only following a path created by the wandering of the other stars. Needless to say, first of all, we were all of the same kind, and sisters and brothers to each other, although our forms were unclear. Then again, from start to finish, the plans of the One are always under a cloak of secrecy. But you can be sure that he would put an end to that condition of innocent stupidity in due course. 

 

Now, in those freshest days, when the Sun would yet come down from the heavens in order to dance amongst us, and play with us, every living thing on the face of the Nw Yrth used to look the same, and they sang the same song to each other and to the Resplendent One. And whilst the Sun’s light spread from the East to the West every day, life ventured here and there into the good places, and every creature used to go to dwell up a hill or in a valley, on dry land or in the waters of the lakes and the sea, according to his heart’s song. Whilst the brand-new members of creation were being warmed by the rays of the Dazzling One, even the rocks and the rivers joined in with the joyous music. 

 

But when the Sun descended from the sky, and went out of sight at the end of each day, in order to visit far lands somewhere else overseas, the creatures would become fearful, and come together for reassurance. And their voices were strident because of their doubt as they stared up at the Fickle Moon, whose face is not constant, but which instead waxes and wanes at night during each month. 

 

And then, they sang a sad song without words in the moonlight, lamenting the departure of the Father of all. And here is the meaning of that song. They declared: We should collect together raw materials, stones, and branches, and water, and mud; and we should build a tall tower reaching to the Moon. Because only the Moon stays with us when it gets dark and cold, when the One has gone away. And again, while the Sun leaves and returns once during the day according to the usual order, the Moon hides her face and reveals it regularly with the cycle of the seasons [*].

 

In this way we shall come closer to the Moon our Mother, looking on her lovingly, and singing to her tenderly, and embracing her life-giving light; and everyone shall sing together the same strong song, so that all those who hear it shall know that we are the children of the Moon. And then we shall not fear anymore, but instead of this we shall be strong sisters and robust brothers, one and the same, and it is we who shall own the whole face of the Nw Yrth, sharing it with each other, and we shall bear the same name and sing the same song, knowing that we can live without the Sun’s light. Since, rather, we shall be daughters and sons of the Moon! And so, unanimously, and with one song, the spawn of the soil began to erect their tower – the majority of our forebears, anyway, but not every one of them, because eight slunk away, pretending that they needed to practise more in order to sing perfectly. 

 

But in the heavens above, hidden by the clouds, the Father of everything heard their sad singing, and saw their building, and knew they had rejected him, giving themselves solely to the Moon, that eye that twinkles cheekily in the night sky. And when he saw that all the creatures were labouring together, like the Moon’s progeny, singing the same song as they worked, then he whispered to himself. And here is what he was saying – 

 

"Well, now my children are forgetting me, and they do not care any longer for my reviving light either, and they are working together to raise a tower reaching towards the Moon, who winks like a mad eye in the depths of the night. 

 

"Who knows what they will do from here on, as I do not understand their intentions, and anyway, the only thing I want to do all the time is play in the heavens with the clouds and the winds, and dance on the green face of the Nw Yrth, singing a song whose words no-one else understands. And moreover, the Moon only reflects my light, and although I know that the next day will follow the previous one for the time being, despite that, I shall, in the end, grow old and tire of my playing, and all life shall come to an end at that time, going back to whence it came, under the veil of eternal night, only to begin once again, perhaps, in a way, and in a form, I am not able to foresee. 

 

"So, since my children forget me, and work and sing together rather than play with me, mocking me, I shall laugh at them, reminding them that it is only because of my life-giving light that they exist, and that the Moon only reflects my light, and that when I become exhausted, then everything shall return to the muck from which it came originally, and at that time shall all singing cease.

 

And this is what I shall do. I shall sing a majestic song of fear and rejoicing, and it shall call on each living creature separately from every other one, and in a different way, as soon as he hears it. And within that instant he shall transform and become unlike the rest of the other creatures on the face of the Nw Yrth. And then his song shall change too. No longer shall he choose his voice and his words, nor shall he live in complete harmony with all the other creatures on this Planet. 

 

"Rather, the one shall contend with the other, and there shall be strife; and not one of them shall be able to live and to grow in peace; nor shall the one kind couple with the other kinds. And it is at that time that all the creatures, one by one, and each one on his own, shall remember that I am the only One who gives them life and they shall call on my name so that I will give them help."

 

And while the One sang these thoughts in deep meditation, prancing on top of a mountain under a veil of fog, verily, they came to pass. Unexpectedly, the hard-working creatures felt a sudden shudder of fear as if a great, cold wind was rising, and then blowing cruelly through the trembling vegetation of the Nw Yrth. 

 

Now, as the Father of all’s song, terrifyingly beautiful and handsomely frightening, flowed over them, in truth, every sister and brother was beginning to change. And as they became different, their bodies and their faces, their shapes and their colours, were transformed; and their songs began to change too. And there, in a swoon, was every sort of new creature saying his unique name out loud and separate from the others for the first time. And here is part of what they spoke, which is by now the most powerful spell of naming and binding:

 

“... dalatha, bravlu, klendru, eshempa – silpistí, madrolu, bamlaru, zileví – turikikihí, thirularop, bahuakah, veraza – endilda, andíshis, lilivalis, kestala – brubumbu, elentlova, kualuru, tithihenta – anvisashé, kouroakrí, ankelrerek, shezesista – vilizda, huiklé, vildarsí, delkurí.”

 

“... rabbit, lynx, marten, housefly – bee, thrush, moose, spider – cockerel, cricket, dog, polecat – toad, goat, hen, horse – bear, mole, owl, mouse – pig, raven, sheep, snake – swan, worm, buffalo, us."

 

The animals continued to make themselves throughout the day and throughout the night, from one end of the week to the other, through the entire month, and the light of the Moon came, and went away again, whilst the creatures created themselves and introduced themselves to the One and to each other. And the ones who spoke last were the ones from Al-dradho on the Nw Yrth’s Southern Continent, who had told lies to their comrades, in order to hide themselves from being punished and to avoid the Sun’s frivolousness. Eight of them there were, and they had given many names to themselves, such as ‘ampashu, azarié, delkurí, eldo, namana, nekendu, silba, ulkru,’ as if they desired to overcome the oppressive power of language, and make the One’s fate into a laughing stock. 

 

And to some extent they succeeded, the ones who had fled in the beginning, as they were not changed, and they stayed in the same primal form. And they fashioned personal names for themselves too, namely Lushfé, Tefnuth, Hebé, Nuthkí, Wezir, Isheth, Nebesh, and Swtakh. And these are the Seraphic Sorcerers, seven of them at least, who appear terrifying even today. And they hate the whole World and everything which is in it, as it mocks them and reminds them of the changeable past which was once, but will never be again. And so, they try to remake it in their own harsh image. But while Seven of these would rule tyrannically over the New Yrth in the future, one would become slave to the rest as a result of his rebellion. And about that the snake knew, and knows still, more than he would say; and he speaks less still now, whilst slithering unseen, grinning silently. 

 

And having finished declaring their names, the ones of one kind could not understand the song of the other kind. But the name of the one showed the sharpness of his beak, or the keenness of his eyes, or the swiftness of his wings, or the grip of his tail. And so they went away under the azure sky in order to investigate the possibilities of their new bodies, and to talk with their new voices, although one kind could not speak a single word to the other. 

 

And some splashed in water, and others panted whilst labouring up mountains, and another went to dwell amongst the ice, and another again to wander on the plains, but then again there were some venturing onto the winds. And each one had his own special characteristic, which differentiated between the one and the other. But something else entirely happened to our ancient forefathers, the Innumerable Indolent Idolaters, the Ineluctable Unauthoritative Overseers of the Nw Yrth, who had come first of all the creatures to the Sun to receive his judgement and their fate, full of good spirits, laughing and jumping, as they loved our Mother and trusted our Father too.

 

And the fundamental difference was this: they would never finish changing, nor stay in one form at all whilst transforming all the time. Rather, they would always gambol and play whilst constantly singing their chaotic and changeable song of exultation and despair to our Mother, the Moon, whilst praising our Father, the Sun, also. 

 

Thus, each type of creature went away downhearted, following his own path, and speaking his particular language, from the prairie where the One had taught them to speak, and from where they had been scattered across the face of the Nw Yrth. And from then on, the Planet was a colder and harder place, but then again, it was more varied and colourful too. 

 

And the World’s inhabitants flourished, and multiplied, fighting against one another, and when the one had killed the other, then he would eat it, or leave its corpse to rot. And variety gave birth to difference according to the song of the Sun, in the same way that plants sprout without thinking about the consequences. 

 

But at the same time the Seraphic Sorcerers, who had given themselves many names, needed to be fruitful, and cover the World with their offspring, and the Idolaters were already hateful to them, who hated everything irregular and inconstant. And already they sent thousands and thousands of enemies to attack our ancestors, insisting that they were the best, because it is only the Resplendent Sun, their loving Father, who gives life, and the Fickle Moon, cousin to the Nw Yrth, but reflects his light weakly, confusing those who worship her as Mother. 

 

Of course, the Father of everyone will claim that he knows nothing in particular about anything of importance save the last days of our World. But despite that, through playing rather than planning, he will always succeed in accomplishing the results that are best for the Nw Yrth. And we must remember that we are all children of the Sun too, who are bound by the same song, despite the different languages and appearances, although some amongst us do not realise the fact nor admit it. 

 

Throughout his oration, as the story unfolded, the voice of the old one in his scarlet gown was growing slower and quieter, and with these words, at last, he fell asleep.

 

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[*] I'd love hearing Miss B Procter drawing attention to the fact that the seasons have been an ever-present influence on the life of the Thorlin throughout their history, and that the lifecycle is a crucial unit for every organism. She used to argue that we should be very conscious of the circulation of energy in nature, and of cycles such as those to be seen in life and  death, fertility and reproduction, parasitism and altruism, and in the creation and destruction of civilizations. But, she would also warn that cycles are fundamentally ambiguous. On the one hand, they appear to lots of people as closed systems that are complete and perfect. On the other hand, if you investigate in detail, there is a constant tension to be discovered between possible descriptions of many systems or phenomena containing cycles in “linear” terms (such as “ebb and flow”) which make them appear repetitive and bounded, and descriptions in “cyclic” terms that emphasize open and  dispersed aspects. So, we could say that cycles often continue to be exceedingly puzzling (or “chaotic”) even as they reveal useful patterns. Despite that, from a practical perspective (and she was always lacking-in-nonsense to say the least!), she used to insist from the bottom of her heart on the importance of recycling, sustainability, and renewability, if we are to avoid torturing the Planet worse that we have done up to now, and eventually murdering it. — P.M.

 

Yn ogystal â llefaru yn y ffordd arferol, mae’n bosibl i’r llais gynhyrchu seiniau cerddorol trwy’r proses o’r enw canu. Mae rhai’n dweud mai damwain o ran esblygiad yw canu dynol a ddigwyddodd o ganlyniad i ddatblygu iaith. Fodd bynnag, mae rhai eraill yn credu i ganu ddatblygu’n gyntaf yn hynafiaid dynolryw, gan baratoi’u cyhyrau lleisiol ar gyfer siarad. Serch hynny, mae’n sicr yr adroddid straeon ar ffurf caneuon cofiadwy cyn y’u hysgrifennid. Mae canu a llefaru’n wahanol i ryw raddau, ond yn debyg iawn o ran rhai pethau eraill. Yn yr ymennydd mae sawl rhan yn ymwneud â cherddoriaeth ac iaith, y naill ynghyd â’r llall. Ymddengys y gall canu helpu pobl sydd wedi cael trawiad i siarad, trwy hyfforddi gwahanol rannau’r ymennydd i fabwysiadu swyddogaethau newydd. Gwneir canu’n unigol neu mewn grŵp, yn ffurfiol neu’n anffurfiol, fel rhan o ddefod neu wasanaeth crefyddol, er mwyn pleser neu gysur, neu fel hobi. Mae’n defnyddio technegau neilltuol, yn cynnwys gallu dilyn rhythmau cymhleth, a dal nodynnau estynedig, ac er mwyn canu’n dda mae angen amser, addysg, ymroddiad ac ymarfer. Yr ydys yn honni bod i ganu lawer o fuddion iechyd, er enghraifft: cryfhau’r system imiwnedd, lleihau pwysau gwaed, gwella rheolaeth ar yr anadl a chynaniad, a helpu gyda phrosesu gwybodaeth. O ran manteision seicolegol, ymddengys bod canu’n rhyddhau niwrodrosglwyddyddion penodol yn yr ymennydd, ac felly mae’n helpu i gael gwared ar emosiynau cronedig, gan wella ymlacio a chynyddu hapusrwydd. Llawer o rywogaethau eraill sydd yn canu’n cynnwys adar a morfilod. Mae rhai mathau o anifeiliaid yn dysgu caneuon, tra bydd rhai eraill yn canu ar y pryd, neu newyddu. Weithiau, sylwn ni, bydd giboniaid yn canu mewn grwpiau.

 

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“Cân yr Haul”

 

O “Gwir Chwedlau Gwerin o Galon y Cyfandir,”

gan Pjetër Mamrick (casglwr), wedi’i gyfieithu gan Daud Pekar,

ac yn cynnwys darluniau gan Steffan Balrog Grossmann.

 

 

Yr oedd, ers cyn cof, o’r cychwyn cyntaf, yr Un ymhlith Llawer, yr Haul Disglair. Ar ei ben ei hunan ydoedd, wedi'i golli ei hun mewn dwfn fyfyrdod, gan ddychmygu ac ochneidio, fel pe bai ei dendriliau o dân wedi'u lapio mewn haenen drwchus o dywod melyn. Ac yno y disgleiriai‘n raslon yn y nefoedd am y rhawg ar hugain, gan adnabod neb heblaw amdano ei hun. A dôi’r tarthoedd, a deuai’r cymylau, ac âi’r glawogydd ymaith unwaith eto, ond ni allent byth ddiffodd ei oleuni. Am mai bywyd yw golau’r Un, sydd yn dod â ffrwythlondeb i’r Blaned gron hefyd.

 

Serch hynny oll, chwit-chwat oedd ewyn y moroedd, ac roedd anadl y gwyntoedd yn fud, ac ni siaradai’r glaswellt a dyfai’n dirf ar wyneb y Blaned â’r Un sy’n Dad i bopeth. A chalon eiriasboeth, unig yn y nefoedd ydoedd, a arhosai i rywbeth ddigwydd. A chyda threigl amser, er nad oedd dim byd mewn bodolaeth yn ei fesur, ond anesmwythder y Golau unigryw ymhlith y sêr anghysbell, di-rif, ymhen yr hir a’r hwyr, roedd ar yr Haul sy’n tywynnu dros bawb awydd cadw cwmni mwy nag ei feddyliau ei hun.

 

Felly, yn yr un modd y bydd tonau’n torri ar y traeth yn treulio’r lan, yr oedd yn ailffurfio ei freuddwydion. Nid oedd erioed wedi syllu mor ystyriol o'r blaen ar y coed urddasol, gan synhwyro bob symudiad bychan eu canghennau. Yn awr yr oedd yn profi’r llonder sy’n dod pan yf pridd cras ddŵr croyw; am y tro cyntaf yr oedd yn cydnabod y cynnwrf a fydd pan flagura egin o’r newydd. Yn y fan a’r lle, wrth i’r Un oedi i wrando, dechreuodd y greadigaeth i gyd lefaru. Ac eto y daliai’r Un i lewyrchu.

 

Yn y dyddiau hynny ar wawr cof, ymhell o bobman, pan ddisgynnai’r Un o’r wybren, a sibrydai’r blodau gyfrinachau, fe ddeath creaduriaid symudol o bob mat – anifeiliaid sy’n rhedeg a hela a chyplu, bywyd gwyllt ar y gweundiroedd, pysgod yn y môr, adar yn yr awyr, ymlusgiaid sy’n llithro, a phryfed sy’n cythru – i fodoli ar y Blaned, am mai'r Un arferai dramwyo'r tiroedd uchel a’r gwaelodion fel ei gilydd heb rwystr, ac wrth iddo wneud hyn, bob yn ychydig y’i hanfonid yn berlewyg. Symud pob cangen a oedd yn ei lenwi’n llawn i’r ymyl â gorfoledd, ac wrth i’w brofiad ddwysáu, fe drawodd ef gân.

 

Nid oedd unrhyw sain o’r un fath erioed wedi'i chlywed o’r blaen ar yr Yrth, na hyd yn oed yn y ffurfafen, ar wahân i gerddoriaeth anghysbell y nefolion leoedd. Ac yn yr eiliad gyntaf honno pan ebychodd meddyliau’r Un yn eiriau llafar, atebodd y Blaned. Y gweryd ei hunan a wnaeth droi’n hylif gludiog, trwchus, ac mewn mannau malwyd y creigiau’n ysgyrion, a hyd yn oed curiad calon danllyd y Blaned y gellid ei glywed. Ac yna’n raddol, cychwynnodd y lafa tawdd, a oedd newydd fod yn gweiddi oddi isod i groen caregog y Byd crwn, dorri trwy’r grawen, gan ffrydio allan a chodi mewn bysedd o hylif creigiog oedd yn ymestyn tuag at yr awyr iach, cyn ymsuddo, a slochian i lawr i berfeddion y Blaned unwaith eto.

 

Wedyn, wrth i lonydd ddisgyn, gyda sibrwd tyner awel, fe ddechreuodd yr Haul sylwi ar y mymryn lleiaf o newid. Ac yn syfrdan roedd yr Un yn gwylio hyn oll a oedd yn digwydd ond nid yn ddistaw. Gan mai erbyn hyn creaduriaid newydd sbon a oedd yn sgwrsio â fe, yn awr roedd plant cnawdol, cochdduon y pridd yn cymryd eu bywyd eu hunain am y tro cyntaf. Ac o hynny ymlaen, fe fyddai’r Blaned yn hollol wahanol yn oes oesoedd; a’r Nw Yrth fyddai ei henw newydd hi. Wrth i’r Un sydd uwchben pob dim anadlu'n gyflym o ganlyniad i’r wyrth hon, yr oedd yr anifeiliaid yn clywed y chwa fywhaol o wynt, a dynesu yn ei gylch ef er mwyn canu eu bywyd. Ac wedyn y cyhoeddodd yr Un y geiriau hyn i bawb:

 

Wrth i goed ffrwytho fe blygant ac ymostwng, 

Llawn glaw, fe gwsg cymylau trymion mewn hedd,

Dylai’r rhai a symuda weiddi a chwarae’n hoenus,

Gan taw hynny yw ystyr gwir hoedl o dan yr Haul.

 

Felly, o’r dechreuadau hyn, fy mhlant i, y daeth i fod bob creadur symudol sy’n trigo gyda ni heddiw. Ond ni chawsom ein gwneud yn ddelw o’r Un ei hunan i fod yn debyg iddo, i fod yn feistri sy'n rheoli dros bopeth ar y Blaned gyfan heb sôn am yn y Cyfanfyd. Nid oedd yn gweithio o’i ben a’i bastwn ei hun ‘chwaith, a bod yn berffaith onest, ond yn hytrach, dim ond dilyn llwybr wedi’i greu gan grwydro’r sêr eraill a wnaeth. Does angen dweud, yn gyntaf oll buom ni i gyd o’r un fath, ac yn chwiorydd a brodyr inni’n gilydd, er bod ein ffurfiau ni’n aneglur. Eto i gyd, o ben bwy gilydd y mae cynlluniau’r Un wastad dan orchudd o ddirgelwch. Ond fe ellwch fod yn siŵr y byddai ef yn rhoi pen ar y cyflwr hwn o hurtrwydd diniwed maes o law.

 

Nawr, yn y dyddiau ffresiaf hynny, pan ddeuai’r Haul eto i lawr o’r nefoedd er mwyn dawnsio yn ein plith ni, a chwarae gyda ni, arferai pob creadur byw ar wyneb y Nw Yrth ymddangos yr un peth, ac fe ganent yr un gân i’w gilydd ac i’r Un Disglair. Ac wrth i olau’r Haul ymledu o’r Dwyrain i’r Gorllewin bob dydd, byddai bywyd yn mentro draw a thraw i mewn i’r mannau da, a byddai pob creadur yn mynd i fyw i lan bryn neu mewn cwm, ar dir sych ynteu mewn dyfroedd y llynnoedd a’r môr, yn ôl cân ei galon. Tra twymid aelodau newydd grai cread gan belydrau’r Un Llachar, hyd yn oed y creigiau a’r afonydd a oedd yn ymuno â’r gerddoriaeth lon.

 

Ond pan ddisgynnai’r Haul o’r awyr, a mynd o’r golwg ddiwedd pob dydd, er mwyn ymweld â gwledydd pell rywle arall dros y môr, fe âi’r creaduriaid yn ofnus, a chynnull at ei gilydd ar gyfer cysur. Ac roedd eu lleisiau’n groch oherwydd eu hamheuaeth wrth iddynt syllu i fyny ar y Lleuad Oriog, nad yw ei hwyneb yn gyson, eithr yn hytrach a dyfa a lleihau gyda’r nos yn ystod pob mis.

 

Ac wedyn, yr oedden nhw’n canu cân drist heb eiriau yn y lloergan, gan alarnadu ymadael Tad pawb. A dyma ystyr y gân honno. Fe gyhoeddasant: Fe ddylem gasglu at ei gilydd ddefnyddiau crai, meini, a changhennau, a dŵr, a llaid; ac fe ddylem adeiladu tŵr tal yn estyn at y Lleuad. Oblegid mai dim ond y Lloer arhosa gyda ni pan fydd hi’n nosi ac yn oeri, pan fydd yr Un wedi mynd i ffwrdd. Ac eto, tra bydd yr Haul yn gadael a dychwelyd unwaith yn ystod y dydd yn ôl y drefn arferol, y Lloer fydd yn cuddio’i hwyneb a’i ddatgelu’n rheolaidd gyda chylchred y tymhorau.

 

Fel hyn y gallwn ni ddod yn nes at y Lleuad ein Mam, gan edrych arni’n gariadlon, a chanu ati hi’n dyner, a chofleidio’i golau bywiocaol; ac fe gân pawb gyda'i gilydd yr un gân gref, fel y gwybydd pob un a’i clyw taw plant y Lleuad ydym. Ac yna nid ofnwn ni mwyach, ond yn lle hyn y byddwn yn chwiorydd cryfion a brodyr cedyrn, yr un a’r unrhyw, a nyni fydd biau holl wyneb y Nw Yrth gan ei rannu gyda’n gilydd, ac fe ddygwn ni’r un enw a chanu’r un gân, gan wybod y gallwn ni fyw heb olau’r Haul. Am fod yn hytrach, fe fyddwn ni’n ferched a meibion i’r Lloer! Ac felly, yn unfryd, a chydag un gân, cychwynnodd epil y pridd godi eu tŵr – y rhan fwyaf o’n henafiaid, beth bynnag, ond nid pob un ohonynt, gan fod wyth a sleifiodd ymaith, yn esgus bod arnynt angen ymarfer mwy er mwyn canu’n berffaith.

 

Ond yn y nefoedd uwchben, wedi’i gelu gan y cymylau, fe glywodd Tad popeth eu canu’n drist, a gweld eu codi, a gwybod eu bod nhw wedi’i wrthod ef, gan gadw eu hunain yn unig i’r Lleuad, y llygad hwnnw fydd yn ysmicio’n hyf yn awyr y nos. A phan welodd ef fod y creaduriaid i gyd yn llafurio gyda’i gilydd, fel hiliogaeth y Lloer, gan ganu’r un gân wrth iddynt weithio, wedyn y sibrydodd wrtho’i hun. A dyma’r hyn a ddywedodd –

 

"Wel, yn awr mae fy mhlant yn f’anghofio i, ac ni dda ganddyn nhw ‘mo’m golau adfywiol rhagor ‘chwaith, ac maen nhw’n cydweithio i godi tŵr yn estyn tuag at y Lleuad, sy’n amrantu fel llygaid lloerig yn nhrymder y nos.

 

"Pwy a ŵyr beth a wnân nhw o hyn ymlaen, am nad ydw i’n deall eu hamcanion, a ta be’, yr unig beth dw i eisiau ‘neud bob amser yw chwarae yn y nefoedd gyda’r cymylau a’r gwyntoedd, a dawnsio ar wyneb gwyrdd y Nw Yrth gan ganu cân nad yw neb arall yn deall ei geiriau. Ac ar ben hynny, dim ond adlewyrchu fy ngolau a wna’r Lloer, ac er i fi wybod y bydd y diwrnod nesa’n dilyn yr un o’i flaen yn amseroedd, serch ‘ny, fe fydda i yn y pen draw yn heneiddio a blino ar fy chwarae, ac fe ddaw bywyd i gyd i ben yr adeg honno, gan fynd yn ôl i’r lle y daeth ohono dan lenni nos dragwyddol, dim ond i ddechrau unwaith eto, falle, mewn ffordd, ac ar ffurf, dw i’m yn medru’i rhagweld.

 

"Felly, achos bod fy mhlant yn f’anghofio i, ac yn gweithio a chanu gyda’i gilydd yn hytrach na chwarae gyda fi, gan fy ngwatwar i, fi a wna chwerthin am eu pennau nhw, gan eu hatgoffa nhw taw dim ond o achos fy ngolau bywiocaol y maen nhw’n bodoli, ac mai dim ond adlewyrchu fy ngolau i a wna’r Lleuad, ac mai pan fydda i’n mynd yn lluddedig, wedyn y dychwel popeth i’r llaid o ble y daeth yn wreiddiol, a’r pryd hynny y gorffen y canu i gyd.

 

"A dyma beth a wna i. Canu cân fawreddog o ofid a gorfoledd a wna, ac fe eilw hi at bob creadur byw ar wahân i bob un arall, ac mewn ffordd wahanol, cyn gynted ag y bydd yn ei chlywed. Ac o fewn yr eiliad honno y bydd e’n trawsffurfio a dod yn annhebyg i weddill y creaduriaid eraill ar wyneb y Nw Yrth. Ac yna y newidia ei gân hefyd. Nid rhagor bydd e’n dewis ei lais na’i eiriau, na bydd e’n byw yn hollol gytûn â’r creaduriaid eraill i gyd ar y Blaned hon.

 

"Yn hytrach, fe fydd y naill yn ymryson â’r llall, ac fe fydd helynt; ac ni fydd yr un ohonyn nhw’n medru byw na thyfu mewn heddwch; na bydd y naill fath yn paru â’r rhai eraill. A bryd hynny y cofia’r creaduriaid i gyd, fesul un, a phob un ar ei ben ei hunan, taw’r Un unig ydw i sy’n rhoi bywyd iddyn nhw, ac fe alwan nhw ar f’enw er mwyn i fi estyn cymorth iddyn nhw."

 

Ac wrth i’r Un ganu’r meddyliau hyn mewn myfyrdod dwys, gan brancio ar ben mynydd dan orchudd o niwl, yn wir, fe ddarfuant. Yn ddisymwth, fe deimlodd y creaduriaid gweithgar ias sydyn o ofn fel petai wynt mawr, oer yn codi, ac wedyn chwythu’n greulon trwy lystyfiant crynedig y Nw Yrth.

 

Yn awr, wrth i gân Tad popeth, ddychrynllyd o hardd, a phrydferth o frawychus, lifo drostynt, mewn gwirionedd, pob chwaer a brawd a ddechreuodd newid. Ac wrth iddynt fynd yn wahanol, trawsffurfiwyd eu cyrff, eu hwynebau, eu siapau a’u lliwiau; a chychwyn newid a wnaeth eu caneuon hefyd. Ac yno, mewn llewyg, yr oedd pob math o fwystfil newydd yn dweud ei enw unigryw ar goedd ac ar wahân i’r lleill am y tro cyntaf. A dyma ran o’r hyn a lefarasant, ac erbyn hyn, swyngan rymusa’ enwi a rhwymo ydy:

 

“... dalatha, bravlu, klendru, eshempa – silpistí, madrolu, bamlaru, zileví – turikikihí, thirularop, bahuakah, veraza – endilda, andíshis, lilivalis, kestala – brubumbu, elentlova, kualuru, tithihenta – anvisashé, kouroakrí, ankelrerek, shezesista – vilizda, huiklé, vildarsí, delkurí.”

 

“... cwningen, lincs, belau, pryf – gwenynen, bronfraith, mws, corryn – ceiliog, cricsyn, ci, ffwlbart – llyffant, gafr, iâr, ceffyl – arth, gwadd, tylluan, llygoden – mochyn, cigfran, dafad, sarff – alarch, mwydyn, byfflo, nyni.”

 

Yr oedd yr anifeiliaid yn parhau i enwi eu hunain drwy gydol y dydd, ac ar hyd y nos, o'r naill ben i'r wythnos i'r llall, drwy'r mis crwn cyfan, a daeth golau’r Lleuad a mynd i ffwrdd unwaith eto, wrth i’r creaduriaid greu eu hunain ac ymgyflwyno i’r Un ac i’w gilydd. A’r rhai a siaradodd olaf oedd y rhai o Al-dradho ar Gyfandir Deheuol y Nw Yrth, sydd wedi dweud celwyddau wrth eu cymrodyr, er mwyn ymguddio rhag cael eu cosbi ac i osgoi gwamalu’r Haul. Wyth ohonynt oedd, ac yr oeddent wedi rhoi llawer o enwau iddynt eu hunain, megis ‘ampashu, azarié, delkurí, eldo, namana, nekendu, silba, ulkru,’ fel petaent yn dymuno goresgyn grym gormesol iaith, a gwneud tynged yr Un yn gyff gwawd.

 

Ac i ryw raddau llwyddasant, y rhai a oedd wedi ffoi yn y dechreuad, am nas newidiwyd, ac arosasant yn yr un ffurf gysefin. Ac fe luniasant enwau personol iddynt eu hunain hefyd, sef Lushfé, Tefnuth, Hebé, Nuthkí, Wezir, Isheth, Nebesh, a Swtach. A dyma’r Swynwyr Seraffaidd, saith ohonynt o leiaf, sy’n ymddangos yn ddychrynllyd hyd yn oed heddiw. Ac maent yn casáu’r Byd i gyd a phopeth sydd ynddo, am ei fod yn eu gwatwar a’u cofio am y gorffennol newidiol a fu unwaith ond na fydd byth eto. Ac felly y maent yn ceisio ei ail-wneuthur ar eu delw lem eu hunain. Ond tra byddai Saith o’r rhain yn teyrnasu’n ormesol dros y Nw Yrth yn y dyfodol, un a ddeuai’n was i’r lleill o ganlyniad i’w wrthryfel. Ac am hynny, y sarff a wyddai, ac a ŵyr o hyd, fwy nag a ddywedai; ac mae’n siarad lai byth erbyn hyn, wrth ymlusgo’n anweledig dan laswenu’n ddistaw.

 

Ac wedi gorffen datgan eu henwau, ni allai’r rhai o’r naill fath ddeall cân y llalll. Ond enw’r un a ddangosai awch ei big, neu graffter ei lygaid, neu gyflymder ei adain, neu afael ei gynffon. Ac felly yr aethant i ffwrdd o dan yr awyr asuraidd er mwyn archwilio posibiliadau eu cyrff newydd, a llefaru â’u lleisiau newydd, er na siaradai’r naill fath yr un gair â’r llall.

 

A sblasiai rhai mewn dŵr, a dyheai rhai eraill wrth lafurio i fyny mynyddoedd, ac âi un arall i drigo ymhlith yr iâ, ac un arall eto i grwydro ar y gwastatiroedd, ond eto i gyd byddai rhai’n mentro i’r gwyntoedd. Ac roedd gan bob un ei nodwedd arbennig ei hunan, a oedd yn gwahaniaethu rhwng y naill a’r llall. Ond rhywbeth arall yn llwyr a ddigwyddodd i’n cyndadau hynafol ni, y Delw-addolwyr Dioglyd Dirifedi, Arolygwyr Anawdurdodol Anochel y Nw Yrth, a oedd wedi dod gyntaf o’r creaduriaid i gyd at yr Haul i dderbyn ei farn a’u ffawd yn llawn hwyliau da, dan chwerthin a neidio, gan eu bod yn caru’n Mam ac yn ymddiried yn ein Tad hefyd.

 

A'r gwahaniaeth sylfaenol oedd hyn: ni fyddent yn gorffen newid byth, nac aros mewn un ffurf o gwbl wrth drawsffurfio bob amser. Yn hytrach fe fyddent wastad yn prancio a chwarae, wrth ganu’n gyson eu cân gaotig a chyfnewidiol o orfoledd ac anobaith i’n Mam, y Lleuad, wrth ganu clod ein Tad, yr Haul hefyd.

 

Felly yr oedd pob math o greadur yn ei throi hi’n ddigalon, gan ddilyn ei lwybr ei hun, a llefaru ei iaith neilltuol, o’r paith lle roedd yr Un wedi dysgu iddynt siarad, ac o ble roeddent wedi'u gwasgaru dros wyneb y Nw Yrth. Ac o hynny ymlaen, roedd y Blaned yn fangre oerach a chaletach, ond eto i gyd, roedd yn fwy amryfal a lliwgar hefyd.

 

A ffynnu a wnâi trigolion y Byd, a lluosogi, gan ymladd yn erbyn ei gilydd; a phan fyddai’r naill wedi lladd y llall, wedyn y’i bwytai, neu ynteu adael i’w gelain bydru. Ac amrywiaeth esgorai ar wahaniaeth yn ôl cân yr Haul, yn yr un ffordd fel y blagura’r planhigion heb feddwl am y canlyniadau.

 

Ond ar yr un pryd, roedd angen ar y Swynwyr Seraffaidd, sydd wedi rhoi llawer o enwau iddynt eu hunain, fod yn ffrwythlon, a gorchuddio’r Byd â’u hepil. Ac roedd y Delw-addolwyr yn enwedig yn gas ganddynt hwy, a oedd yn ffieiddio popeth afreolaidd ac anghyson. Ac eisoes yr anfonent filoedd ar filoedd o elynion i ymosod ar ein hynafiaid, gan fynnu mai hwynt-hwy oedd y gorau, oblegid mai dim ond yr Haul Llachar, eu Tad cariadus, sy’n rhoi bywyd, ac mai’r Lloer Oriog, cyfnither i’r Nw Yrth, na fydd ond yn adlewyrchu ei olau’n wan, gan ddrysu’r rhai fydd yn ei haddoli fel Mam.

 

Wrth gwrs, fe fydd Tad pawb yn honni nad ydy’n gwybod dim byd yn enwedig am ddim byd o bwys ond dyddiau olaf ein Byd ni. Ond serch hynny, trwy chwarae yn hytrach na chynllunio, fe fydd wastad yn llwyddo i ennill y canlyniadau sydd orau i’r Nw Yrth. A rhaid cofio mai plant yr Haul ydym ni oll hefyd, sy’n rhwym wrth yr un gân er gwaetha’r ieithoedd a’r gweddau gwahanol, er nad yw rhai yn ein plith ni’n sylweddoli’r ffaith na’i chyfadde’.

 

Drwy gydol ei araith, wrth i’r stori fynd rhagddi, roedd llais yr henuriad yn ei ŵn ysgarlad yn mynd yn arafach ac yn is, a chyda hynny o eiriau, o’r diwedd, fe syrthiodd i gysgu.

 

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[*] Fe fyddwn i’n dwlu ar glywed Miss B Procter yn tynnu sylw at y ffaith bod y tymhorau wedi bod yn ddylanwad hollbresennol ar fywyd y Thorlin trwy gydol eu hanes, a bod cylchred bywyd yn uned hollbwysig i bob organeb. Byddai’ hi’n dadlau y dylen ni fod yn ymwybodol iawn o gylchdroi egni mewn natur, ac o gylchoedd fel y rhai i’w gweld mewn bywyd a marwolaeth, ffrwythlondeb ac atgenhedliad, parasitedd ac allgaredd, ac yng nghreu a dinistr gwareiddiadau. Ond, rhybuddiai hi hefyd fod cylchoedd yn amwys yn y bôn. Ar y naill law, maen nhw’n ymddangos i lawer o bobl fel systemau caeedig sy'n gyflawn a pherffaith. Ar y llaw arall, o chwilio’n fanwl, mae tensiwn parhaol i’w ddarganfod rhwng disgrifiadau posibl o lawer o systemau neu ffenomena’n cynnwys cylchoedd mewn termau “llinol” (fel llanw a thrai) sy’n achosi iddyn nhw ymddangos yn ailadroddol a ffiniedig, a disgrifiadau mewn termau “seiclig” sy’n pwysleisio agweddau agored a gwasgaredig. Felly, gallen ni ddweud bod cylchoedd yn dal i fod yn dra astrus yn aml (neu’n “gaotig”) hyd yn oed wrth ddatgelu patrymau defnyddiol. Serch hynny, o safbwynt ymarferol (ac roedd hi wastad â’i thraed ar y ddaear a dweud y lleia!), taerai hi o waelod ei chalon mor bwysig ydy ailgylchu, cynaliadwyedd, ac adnewyddu, os byddwn i osgoi arteithio’r Blaned yn waeth nag a wnaethom hyd yma, ac yn ei llofruddio o’r diwedd. — P.M.