Mae hen wlad fy nhadau yn annwyl i mi,
Gwlad beirdd a chantorion, enwogion o fri;
Ei gwrol ryfelwyr, gwladgarwyr tra mad,
Dros ryddid collasant eu gwaed.

Gwlad, Gwlad, pleidiol wyf i'm gwlad.
Tra môr yn fur i'r bur hoff bau,
O bydded i'r heniaith barhau.
Hen [bad word] fynyddig, paradwys y bardd,
Pob dyffryn, pob clogwyn, i'm golwg sydd hardd;
Trwy deimlad gwladgarol, mor swynol yw si
Ei nentydd, afonydd, i mi.

Os treisiodd y gelyn fy ngwlad tan ei droed,
Mae heniaith y Cymry mor fyw ag erioed,
Ni luddiwyd yr awen gan erchyll law brad,
Na thelyn berseiniol fy ngwlad.
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The old land of my fathers is dear to me,
 Land of bards and singers, famous men of renown;
 Her brave warriors, very splendid patriots,
 For freedom shed their blood.
Nation [or country], Nation, I am faithful to my Nation.
While the sea [is] a wall to the pure, most loved land,
O may the old language [sc. Cymraeg] endure.

Old mountainous Wales, paradise of the bard,
 Every valley, every cliff, to my look is beautiful.
 Through patriotic feeling, so charming is the murmur
 Of her brooks, rivers, to me.

If the enemy oppresses my land under his foot,
 The old language of the Welsh is as alive as ever.
 The muse is not hindered by the hideous hand of treason,
 Nor [is] the melodious harp of my country.