Cerdded 'Mlaen - Tecwyn Ifan - Still walking on and loving our Land

Songs have always been a source of inspiration for all peoples and not least the Welsh.

Welsh Land when studied in depth reveals the real history of Wales - the grounded bottom up history not the top down history so loved by the Crachach and the Anglo Welsh Cambrian historians.

The Historical Materialist interpretation of Welsh History where the Land speaks for the people has no truck with fake Welsh Tudor Taffdom and its breed of lickspittles which have influenced Welsh political life down to the present.

The "invisible" struggle for Welsh Land will become visible once again in the 21st century when the next generation of Welsh men and women begin to see again and political Land blindness ends.

Geiriau:

Roedd my yddoedd y Preselau fel tadau mwyn i mi;
rhain ydoedd fy hoffus ffrindiau i.

Bryd hynny rown i'n ifanc, a ffydd ydoedd fy nghân
a minnau megis newydd gynnau'r tân.

Ond rwy'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen,
dal i gerdded 'mlaen.
Mae 'na rhai yn dal i 'ngharu,
rwy'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen.

Dechreuais yna gerdded, cerdded ar fy nhaith,
dros y bryniau teg,ar hyd heolydd llaith.
Profais oriau tywyll, brwydrau gwaedlyd fu,
trosodd aeth 'na rhai trwy'r angau du.

Ond rwy'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen,
dal i gerdded 'mlaen.
Am fod rhai yn dal i 'ngharu,
rwy'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen.

A nawr ar fy hen lwybrau fe dyf y glaswellt hir
ac mi allaf bellach grwydro'r tir.
Paid a chynnig cymorth i hen wraig ar ffo,
ond dy fywyd cyfan wnaiff y tro.

Ac rwy'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen,
dal i gerdded 'mlaen.
Am fod rhai yn dal i 'ngharu,
rwy'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen.

Mae bywyd yn y canu, ond marw yw y gân -
dyna ofid yr hên wreigan fân.
Ond pan drodd y Cymry ati fe ganfu hi ei hedd,
a throdd hithau ieunac hardd eu gwedd.

Ond mae'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen,
dal i gerdded 'mlaen.
Am fod rhai yn dal i'w charu,
mae'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen.

Ydi, mae'n dal i gerdded ymlaen,
cerdded ymlaen,
am fod rhai yn dal i'w charu,
mae'n dal i gerdded 'mlaen.

English Translation:

The Preselau mountains were like loving fathers to me;
these were my fond friends.
Back then I was young, and faith was my song
and I had only just lit the fire.

But I'm still walking on,
still walking on.
There are some who still love me,
I'm still walking on.

I then began to walk, walk on my journey,
over fair hills, and on damp roads.
I endured dark hours, bloody battles gone,
and over did some go to the darkness of death.

But I'm still walking on,
still walking on.
Because there are some who still love me,
I'm still walking on.

And now on my old paths the long grass grows
and I can now wander the land.
Do not offer aid to an old woman on the run,
only your whole life will be enough.

And I'm still walking on,
still walking on.
Because there are some who still love me,
I'm still walking on.

There's life in the singing, but the song is dying --
that is the sorrow of the little old woman.
But when the Welsh turned to her she found her peace
and she in turn became young and beautiful.

But she's still walking on,
still walking on.
Because there are some who still love her,
she's still walking on.

Yes, she's still walking on,
still walking on.
Because there are some who still love her,
she's still walking on