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Mae hen wald fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi,
O land of my father, the land of the free,
Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, enwogion o fri;
Of poets and singers, so soothing to me,
Ei gwrol ryfelwyr, gwlad garwyr tra mad,
Thy noble defenders were gallent and brave,
Tros ryddid gollasant eu gwaed.
For freedom their hearts life they give.

Gwlad, Gwald. pleidiol wyf im gwlad
Wales! Wales! home, sweet home, is Wales.
Tra mor yn fur, i'r hoff bau,
Till death be passed, my love shall last
O bydded i'r heniaith barhau.
My longing, my yearning for Wales.

Hen Gymru fynyddig. paradwys y bardd,
Thou haven of bards and birthplace of song,
Pob dyffryn, pob clogwyn i'm golwg sydd hardd;
The sons of thy mountains are valiant and strong
Trwy deimlad gwladgarol, mor swynol yw si
The voice of thy streamlets is soft to the ear,
Ei nentydd, afonydd i mi.
Thy hills and thy valleys, how dear!

Gwlad, Gwald. pleidiol wyf im gwlad
Wales! Wales! home, sweet home, is Wales.
Tra mor yn fur, i'r hoff bau,
Till death be passed, my love shall last
O bydded i'r heniaith barhau.
My longing, my yearning for Wales.

Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwlad tan ei droed,
Tho slighted and scorned by the proud and the strong,
 Mae hen iaith y Cymry mor fyw ag erioed,
The language of Cambria still charms us in song.
Ni luddiwyd yr awen gan erchyll law brad,
The muse survives. nor have envious tales
Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad.
yet silenced the harps of dear Wales.

Gwlad, Gwald. pleidiol wyf im gwlad
Wales! Wales! home, sweet home, is Wales.
Tra mor yn fur, i'r hoff bau,
Till death be passed, my love shall last
O bydded i'r heniaith barhau.
My longing, my yearning for Wales.

EN ANGLAIS

The old land of my fathers is dear to me,
A land of poets and singers, famous people of renown
Its brave warriors, great patriots,
For freedom they lost their blood

Chorus
Country, country, I'm partial to my country,
While the sea is a wall for the pure, dear country,
O may the "old language" continue

Old mountainous Wales, paradise of the poet,
Every valley, every cliff is beautiful in my sight;
Through patriotic feeling, more enchanting is the murmur
Of her streams and rivers to me.

If the enemy violated my country underfoot,
The "old language" of the Welsh is alive as ever,
The spirit wasn't hindered by the awful, treacherous hand
Nor the sweet harp of my country.