Na chyffwrdd, o ddyn, â chalon y bardd
  A bys halogedig, clyw !
Dwfn ffrydiau o deimlad byw :
  Trwy galon y Bardd o hyd mae'n sisial
Afon mor loyw a'r gloywaf risial.
Y cablwr hagr-ael, o aros yn nghudd 
  O'r lle cysegredig hwn ;
Y wên guddia frad, a'r rewllyd oer rudd,
  Ar galon y Bardd y'nt bwn :
Heirdd flodau a fo'n addurno muriau.
Calon y Bardd er cuddio'i doluriau.
Pob llinyn o hon sy'n dirgrynu gan
  Ruthriadau gofidiau'r llawr ;
Tynerwch y Bardd a geir yn y man
  Yn rhwygo'ei galon fawr ;
Gan hyny na foed it ‘gynyg rhoddi
Archoll i galon sydd bron a soddi.
Mae calon y Bardd yn curo'n barhaus
  O blaid symudiadau da ;
I'w gwraidd mae'n cashau pob gormes sarhaus,
  Ond rhyddid a wir fawrha ;
Hi roddai ei gwaed er lleddfu'n fuan
Chwerwon ofidiau'r ddynoliaeth druan.
O ! cofied y byd nad y w'r wên y sydd
  Ar wyneb y Bardd mor wiw
Yn profi nad oes deimladau gor-brudd
  Yn llechu'n ei galon friw ;—
Pan fyddo ei lais yn pêr delori
Ei galon yn fynych sydd bron a thori.
Mae adar y nef yn pyngcio'n fwyn
  Rhwng canghau ei galon ef ;
Na foed i'r di-serch amcanu dwyn
  Anghydsain i gyngherdd nef :
Er curo'n barhaus yn mhlith gofalon
Brenhines natur yw'r Farddol Galon.

Google’s translation

GARMONIC CANCER.
________________________________________
WELSH AND SESSION.
________________________________________
THE HEART OF THE BOARD.
Do not touch a man's heart with the poet
And contaminated finger, hear!
Oh! give no wound to the bosom of a place of origin.
Deep streams of living feeling:
Throughout the Bard's heart he is still chiselled
A river as bright as the brightest crystal.

The hagr-ael caber, of staying hidden
From this sacred place;
X smile smile betray, and the cold icy cold,
At the Poet's heart are they:
Flower gardens that adorn walls.
The Poet's heart for hiding her sorrows.

Every strand of this vibrating by
Disturbances of the floor;
Tenderness of the Poet found in due course
Tearing to her big heart;
So don't give it a go
A wound to a near-drowning heart.

The Poet's heart beats continually
For good moves;
To its root it hates all savage oppression,
But freedom is truly great;
She would donate her blood to relieve soon
The bitterness of the poor humanity.

Oh! remember the world is not the smile
On the face of the Poet so fine
Proves that there are no overbearing feelings
Lying in his broken heart; -
When his voice pervades delori
His heart is often almost broken.

The birds of heaven are mine sweetly
Between finding his heart;
Don't let the foolishness aim to steal
Dissent to heaven concert:
Though continually beaten with caution
The Queen of Nature is the Bardic Heart.