Mae golau llachar y ward seiciatryddol yn taflu cysgodion hir ar hyd y llawr.

The bright light of the psychiatric ward casts long shadows along the floor.

Mae'r waliau o liw beige diflas, ac er bod ychydig o addurniadau yma ac acw, maent yn methu cuddio'r awyrgylch clinigol.

The walls are a dull beige color, and though there are a few decorations here and there, they fail to hide the clinical atmosphere.

Lluniau bach o'r Mynyddoedd Eryri a chaeau gwastad Cymru sy'n hongian ar y muriau, yn awgrymu byd y tu allan—gresyn nad yw Rhiannon yn gallu teimlo ei harddwch nawr.

Small pictures of the Mynyddoedd Eryri and the flat fields of Cymru hang on the walls, suggesting a world outside—unfortunately, Rhiannon can't feel their beauty now.

Rhiannon yn eistedd ar gadair blastig.

Rhiannon sits on a plastic chair.

Mae hi'n tynhau ei gafael o amgylch cerdyn un-nodyn mewn llaw, ceisio canolbwyntio.

She tightens her grip around a one-note card in her hand, trying to focus.

Y nodyn mae o'n ysbryd o gafal Gareth, y therapydd grwp.

The note is a prompt from Gareth, the group therapist.

Mae ganddo garedigrwydd yn ei lais sy’n dod â thawelwch i’r stafell.

There is kindness in his voice that brings a calm to the room.

“Rhiannon, ti eisiau rhannu rhywbeth?”

"Rhiannon, do you want to share something?"

Mae’r stafell yn arogleuo o lawntin newydd, yn driniaeth hyfforddi istoliau.

The room smells of fresh polish, a training treatment for stools.

Mae Ewan, sydd bob amser yn eistedd o flaen Rhiannon, yn edrych i ffwrdd, yn disgwyl wrth i'r môr o dejieddau anweladwy fynd rhyngddynt: golau dydd gwan a phrysau anweladwy o bob cyfeiriad.

Ewan, who always sits in front of Rhiannon, looks away, waiting as a sea of invisible tides flows between them: weak daylight and invisible pressures from all directions.

Mae cymylau yn cylchfyndglo ym mhwll ei stumog.

Clouds swirl in the pit of her stomach.

Ond mae ei calon yn gwthio, dadlau'n gryf ag angst a gobaith—yr alwad di-swnd yn y bore fore.

But her heart pushes—arguing fiercely with angst and hope—the insistent call of the early morning.

Rhywbryd, roedd rhaid cynnwys mynychgwasg Rhiannon ei hun.

At some point, Rhiannon had to confront her own enduring guilt.

"A phan nad oeddwn ond plentyn," dechreuodd yn drwm, "dyna pryd digwyddodd."

"And when I was just a child," she began heavily, "that's when it happened."

Mae ei lais yn crynu, ond nid yw'n stopio.

Her voice shakes, but she doesn't stop.

Nid ar ôl yr holl symbwlin ding fy haelodfeydd cyd-wasgryf eu.

Not after all the struggles of those who have strived to support her healing.

Wrth i Rhiannon ddarlunio'r gorffennol, mae'r taleithiau a bryniroedd nodedig yn symod o'i i'ddi, fel llwch syrthio mewn glaw ysgafn,

As Rhiannon paints the past, the vivid landscapes and hills are peeled away from her, like dust falling in light rain.

Mae hi'n rhannu—yn troi’r hor, am drychineb sydd wedi'i cloi ynddi ers blynyddoedd hir.

She shares—turning the key, unlocking a tragedy that's been sealed within her for many long years.

Ar ben draw’r clychau, mae'n yno ac yn diflannu eto ar eu heulys.

At the end of the whispers, it's there and disappears again in the morning light.

Mae llinell fêl yn cytewd, mae cyfannyddol.

A golden line is drawn, soothingly melodic.

Er pawb ni'ch gai na'i deall, mae'r gorau sy’dd achubodd o’i byny i safod llystof gan amgylchu’r bwstab, yn dangos cymuned mewn eiliad, yn arwain i egwyl Esysfr.

Though not everyone can understand or save it, it's the best she can do to maintain balance by surrounding the shared burden, showing community in a fleeting moment, leading to a quiet pause.

"Cefais fy nghario i ffwrdd gan fiwog, i'ringol yn awelon newydd gan y cefnfor," awgrymodd Gareth gyda'i amynedd tawel, "Ond nid y dydd bellach on geilia’r amser yma wedi cael ffrwyth.”

"I was carried away by a dream, drifting in new breezes by the ocean," suggested Gareth with his quiet patience, "But not today; this time has now borne fruit."

Mae'i geiriau yn meddianni'r stafell unwaith eto.

His words occupy the room once more.

Mae diolch i’w galon, dipyn yn digwydd.

There is gratitude in her heart, albeit sparse.

Cyni-noeth-goflan ei cewyll.

She rests in her cage of bare resolve.

Mae cysgu a gorffwys ar ôl llunio’r gortudd ddiweddol yn well.

Sleeping and resting after the heavy culmination of emotion is better.

Niwriais, mae'r amserion rhyfeddedig yn wibdaith a chaiff cyfnewid bob yn ddydd.

Mysterious times race by, changing every day.

Wrth iddi rannu, mae llwch y boen yn dechrau cilio'n ôl.

As she shares, the dust of pain begins to recede.

Wedi pawb, mae pawb yn sefyll ar bob pen ar y chwiellef.

Afterward, everyone stands on the same turning point.

Pan mae wedi mynd, mae i mewn adref a thywydd hyfryd yn lledaenu ar draws y bryniau.

When she's gone, she is home and the lovely weather spreads across the hills.

Nid yw'r baich yn ddyddiad gwlypt yn ei hysgwyddau mwyach.

The burden no longer a damp date on her shoulders.

Roedd gan Rhiannon fynediad, i unrhyw adeg, i drwsio'i ruin.

Rhiannon had access, at any time, to repair her ruin.

Roedd wedi gweld, yn gorffwys ar i gymuned a fyseiniau sy bosibl i’w chiolchifannau prin.

She had found rest within a community and the rare blessings of healing.

A nawr, mae'r llenni yn cau ar nad cyn i balwychion ddod ar eu mabwys.

And now, the curtains close but not before openness comes to their adopted place.

Mae Gareth, ac Ewan sydd wedi addo bod hwnnw'n lagaryst gyda Rhiannon dros y traeth, yn cysylltu rhywbeth trafod.

Gareth, and Ewan, who had promised to accompany Rhiannon on the beach, connect in a matter of discussion.

A bod cefn-terfyndiad na all ystyried ar yrgwlad hanesyddol, ond godedig i’n cyfeillion, yn arwain ymlaen.

And there was completion that couldn't be considered in the historical landscape, but risen for our friends, leading onward.

A roedd chwallenfa.

And there was a finale.