Lirieke: Alan Stivell. Back To Breizh!.
Ar re 'n oad, ar re yaouank a ya war-raok war an hent
An avel ne vank ket wa' 'n divjod, ba' skevent
Avel a-benn ha goueliou tenn
Avel 'ar vor, goueliou digor
Mat er c'horf mat er penn
Dao mont war c'horr(e)
Ha dalc'homp stag hag e vimp trec'h
Dalc'homp ar vag, diwall douzh an traezh
Erru et porzh 'raok pell 'vo levenez
Krog an daouarn douzh hon douar
Chomomp Bretoned, kaoc'h da bPariz
Krog war 'garreg, krog an daoudroad
Enor ha lorc'h d'ar Vreizhiz
Les jeunes et les plus murs, on va de l'avant,
Les joues fouettees, la poitrine gonflee de vent,
Vent du large, vent du nord,
Vent debout, voiles tendues, vent sur mer, toutes voiles dehors,
Bien dans la tete, bien dans le corps,
Il faut y aller!
Et croche dedans, a nous la victoire,
Tiens bon le bateau, gare aux bans de sable !
Et, d'ici peu, chez nous, il y aura de la joie !
Accroches au pays,
Rester Bretons, merde a Paris !
Accroches au roc, les mains, les pieds,
Retrouves respect, fierte.
En route vers la Bretagne
Young and adults, we sail ahead relentless,
Cheeks stinging, wind north, nor'west,
Lungs bursting wind to bowside,
Sails taut from seawind, a hell of a ride
What a bliss, what comfort,
Onwad we strive !
Don't give up, for victory's at hand,
Steady as she goes, better watch that sand, There 'll be wild delight,
Back home tonight,
As we pour our vessel to this land,
Where we have taken our proud stand
And tell those damned Parisians,
That from our purpose we won't sway,
Brittany is back, and it's here to stay!
An avel ne vank ket wa' 'n divjod, ba' skevent
Avel a-benn ha goueliou tenn
Avel 'ar vor, goueliou digor
Mat er c'horf mat er penn
Dao mont war c'horr(e)
Ha dalc'homp stag hag e vimp trec'h
Dalc'homp ar vag, diwall douzh an traezh
Erru et porzh 'raok pell 'vo levenez
Krog an daouarn douzh hon douar
Chomomp Bretoned, kaoc'h da bPariz
Krog war 'garreg, krog an daoudroad
Enor ha lorc'h d'ar Vreizhiz
Les jeunes et les plus murs, on va de l'avant,
Les joues fouettees, la poitrine gonflee de vent,
Vent du large, vent du nord,
Vent debout, voiles tendues, vent sur mer, toutes voiles dehors,
Bien dans la tete, bien dans le corps,
Il faut y aller!
Et croche dedans, a nous la victoire,
Tiens bon le bateau, gare aux bans de sable !
Et, d'ici peu, chez nous, il y aura de la joie !
Accroches au pays,
Rester Bretons, merde a Paris !
Accroches au roc, les mains, les pieds,
Retrouves respect, fierte.
En route vers la Bretagne
Young and adults, we sail ahead relentless,
Cheeks stinging, wind north, nor'west,
Lungs bursting wind to bowside,
Sails taut from seawind, a hell of a ride
What a bliss, what comfort,
Onwad we strive !
Don't give up, for victory's at hand,
Steady as she goes, better watch that sand, There 'll be wild delight,
Back home tonight,
As we pour our vessel to this land,
Where we have taken our proud stand
And tell those damned Parisians,
That from our purpose we won't sway,
Brittany is back, and it's here to stay!
Stivell, Alan
Gewilde versoeke