ALAN STIVELL KENAVO GLENMOR

Ne gredent sevel o mouezh kreñv

N'oa tost 'met ur barzh en Arvorig

E hanv kozh oa Milig Ar Skañv

'Vel kalz a dud, karout anezhañ a raen

'Vel kaner, 'vel Breizhad, 'vel den,

Fenoz ar glen hag ar mor a glemm

Mouezh hor barzh 'gana 'bar' 'n avel yen

Trugarez, trugarez deoc'h c'hwi Glenmor

Ho mhouezh hud war an hent dalc'hmat

Ne gollo biken den hoc'h eñvor

Ne varvo ken nerzh hon dispac'h 

En ce temps-là nombreux étaient les timides

Qui n'osaient dire clair et fort leur matrie endormie

Il n'y avait guère qu'un barde, guerrier sans arme, en Armorique

Chez lui, on l'appelait Milig

Je l'aimais comme déjà un héros de l'Histoire

Comme chanteur, comme Breton, comme personne,

Ce soir gémit la terre de la vallée et la mer autour sonne

La voix de notre aigle-barde chante dans le vent froid

Merci, merci à toi Glenmor

De tes mots des chemins s'impriment

Jamais ne s'éteindra leur magie

Nos révoltes ignorent la mort

During this time many were the shy kind

And dared not more speak loud and clear of their sleeping homeland

All that remained was one Bard in Armorica

They called him Milig where he came from

I loved him as he was already a hero,

A singer, a Breton, as a person,

Tonight the glenside and the see moans

Our bard's voice singing in the freezing wind

Many thanks to you Glenmor

For your enchanted words that mark out pathways

Their magic strength will never extinguish