(English text below)
Peth rhyfedd yw'r ysfa ynom i gasglu cregyn. I hel, i gadw atgofion am ennyd a dreulwyd ar draeth.
Dwi'n cofio ffeindio'r gragen 'ma ar draeth bychan ar Robin Island yn Ne Affrig. Oedden ni newydd ymweld a carchar, a chlywed hanesion cignoeth y carcharorion fu'n gaeth yno, o dan regime greulon apartheid.
Wrth ddychwelyd yn y cwch i Cape Town, dyma rhyfeddu mor debyg oedd y daith i honno byddaf yn gwneud bob blwyddyn, o groesi'r swnt i Enlli.
Dwy ynys a dau hanes gwahanol iawn, bellter byd oddi wrth eu gilydd. Yn cael eu huno yn fy meddwl mewn ennyd, a gragen hon yn dyn yn fy llaw.
Wedi dychwelyd i Gymru, mi osod y gragen o ben draw y byd gyda rhai bychan o Borth Solfach ar Ynys Enlli.
Peth rhyfedd yw'r ysfa ynom i gasglu cregyn.
(It's a strange urge within us that compels us to collect shells. To collect and keep those memories of moments spent on a beach.
I remember finding this shell on a small beach on Robin Island in South Affrica. We'd just visited a prison and heard the raw accounts of those who'd been imprisoned under the cruel apartheid regime.
Returning in the boat to Cape Town, I was struck by how similar the journey was to my annual trip across the strait to Bardsey Island.
Two islands and two very different histories, a world apart from one another. United in my mind in a moment; this shell held tight in my hand.
Back in Wales, I placed the shell from the other side of the world with some little shells from Porth Solfach on Bardsey Island.
It's a strange urge within us that compels us to collect shells.)
