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alan stivell - ar gelted kozh (les anciens celtes) lyrics

tril mil bloaz zo sur’walc’h, n’oa ket ur baradoz ‘wid ‘r gelted kozh
met tud aman oa ‘heseo demokrasiezh, araog an dud ‘barzh bro-gres
‘wel barzh ‘r’vro sen ‘oa kentoc’h ur c’hlas o c’h–ri ‘n dra-se
met tri mil bloaz ‘zo dija, n’oa roue ‘bet war hon douar
‘merc’hed oa par d’ar baotred, hag an douar ‘oa d’an oll

daou mil a pemp kant bloaz ‘zo, kultur ar gelted kozh oa o fewa?
war lod brasa? an europa, lorc’h ‘bet hon eus o lar an dra-se
met rheid eo gout ‘oa ar romaned tud gouez’n o c’hichen
war ‘n dachenn filozofel, arzhel a’ sokiel.
hag ‘wid ‘lodenn diouzh ‘skianto? ha diouzh an tekniko?

skupet eo bet bed kozh ar gelted ga’ hin’ ar romaned
kre?woc’h oa he, ya’hat, ‘wid rhe?k ur stad a rhein un niverenn da bep den
‘brezel etre ar gelted hag ar romaned
‘zo bet ur brezel ‘tre ar stad o doue ha’ gevredigezh tud
‘tre ‘r bed karrezeg ha kaled leun a karrezed vihan
hag ur bed ronn ha dourel leun a droellenno? hunvre ha follentez
kollet eo bet ar brezel-se, ‘wid ar mare

life was no paradise three thlousand years ago for the celts of old
but before they spoke in greece of democracy we had tried it out in practice,
not just for those in the slave-owning cl-ss but for all men.
three thousand years ago we bowed the knee to no king,
women stood equal to their brothers and the land belonged to all.

five hundred years went by, bloomed bright the free-sown flower of our culture
across the boundaries of europe, this no idle boast in our mouths :
when romans ranged on the seven hills with packs of wolves
the celts were known as philosophers, their arts and society
blossomed around our ancient lore of science and craft.

sweeping across the ancient celtic world came the romans,
building their state on our bones, numbering each man as slaveowner or slave.
not merely roman and celt were locked in struggle :
it was a battle of ideas between the supremacy of the state and the liberty of the individual,
on the one side a square cube of cube-shaped thoughts
imprisoning a liquid world full of spiralling dreams and fantasy,
which now has begun once more to break free.

- alan stivell lyrics

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