Dave,
Here’s the best I could make of it, bear in mind that when poems are translated lose all of their poetic sensibility and their flowing nature. I’ve translated more or less word for word so that you can use your own judgment.
Un addfwyn ei gybeddfau – ydoedd,
One gentle though miserly – he was,
I’w adael yn ddiau,
To leave was doubtless,
Tra mawr gwyn, trwm ei oer gau,
While great suffering, heavy his cold captivity,
Wr byddiol, yn nhy’r beddau.
Man daily, in the graveyard.
Regards,
Buckaroo