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Umer Ki sari Thakan Laad K Ghar Jata Hon



Umer Ki sari Thakan Laad K Ghar Jata Hon

Raat Bister Pay Sota Nahi MAr Jata Hon



Akser Okaat Bhare Sheher K Sanatay Main

Es Qadar Zor Se Hansta Hon K Dar Jata Hon



Mere Aanay Ki Khabar Sirf Diya Rakhta Hay

Main Hawaon Ki Tarah Aa K GUzar Jata Hon



Dil Theher Jata Hay Bhooli Hoi Manzil Main Kahin

Main Kisi Dusre Raste Se Guzar Jata Hon



Simta Rehta HOn Buhat Halqa Ahbab Main Main

Char Dewari Main Aatay HE BIkhar Jata Hon



Main Ne Apne Khilaaf Khud He Gawahi Di Hay

Gar Tere Haq Main Nahi HAy To Mukar Jata Hon

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Wales By Gwenallt Jones Translated by A.Z. Foreman Why give us all this misery? The wrack Of pain on flesh and blood like leaden weight, Your language on our shoulders like a sack, And your traditions fetters round our feet? The canker rots your colors everywhere. Your soul is scabbed with boils. Your song a scream. In your own land you are but a nightmare And your survival but a witch's dream. Still, we can't leave you in the filth to stand A generation's laughing-stock and jest. Your former freedom is our sword in hand, Your dignity a buckler at our breast. We'll grip our spears and spur our steeds: go brave Lest we should shame our fathers in their grave.   The Original: Cymru Gwenallt Jones Paham y rhoddaist inni'r tristwch hwn, A'r boen fel pwysau plwm ar gnawd a gwaed? Dy iaith ar ein hysgwyddau megis pwn, A'th draddodiadau'n hual am ein traed? Mae'r cancr yn crino dy holl liw a'th lun, A'th enaid yn gornwydydd ac yn grach, Nid wyt ond...
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