Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau
Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau [ heːn wlɑːd və ˈn̥adai ] ( Eng .: Old Land of My Fathers ) is the national anthem of Wales . The text is sung in Welsh only . It comes from Evan James (1856), the melody from his son James James . The melody of Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau was adopted for both the Breton ( Bro gozh ma zadoù ) and the Cornish ( Bro Goth Agan Tasow ) national anthems .
Official Welsh textMae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi,
Hen Gymru fynyddig, paradwys y bardd, Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwlad tan ei droed, English adaptationO land of my fathers, O land of my love,
O land of the mountains, the bard's paradise, For tho 'the fierce foeman has ravaged thy realm, |
This English version retains the meter. There are other English translations that are closer to the text.
German translation
Text-based translation of the Welsh original
My fathers' old land is dear to me.
Land of bards and singers, famous men;
His brave fighters, outstanding patriots,
they shed their blood for freedom.
Land, land, I am loyal to my land,
while the sea forms a wall for the pure, beloved land,
oh, may the old language endure.
Old mountainous Wales, paradise of the bards,
Every valley, every cliff is beautiful to my eyes;
Through patriotic feelings, the murmur of
your streams and rivers is very appealing to me.
Country, country ...
When the enemy oppresses my country under his feet,
The ancient language of the Welsh is alive as never before,
The muse is not hindered by the terrible hand of betrayal,
Neither the melodious harp of my country.
Country, country ...
Translation of the English adaptation
Oh, land of my fathers, Oh, land of my love,
you mother of the minstrels, who awaken and move,
And hero after hero, who on the honor of proud reputation,
gave their lives for freedom.
Wales! Wales!
Oh, my heart stays with you!
And broad as the sea
Your bulwark should be,
Against Cymru my heart will remain true.
Oh, land of mountains, the bard's heavenly kingdom,
its gorges and valleys, the sky like solitude,
green forests and rushing rivers that
arouse the imagination and refresh the blood.
Because of this, bitter enemies have devastated your kingdom,
But they cannot subjugate the old language of Cymru,
Our fervent poets are called to be silent,
Or play the harp from your beach.
Until the trees burn.