An t-Àite Dham Buin Sinn
’S ann againn bha sealbh tro na linntean a dh’fhalbh,
Air tìr agus glinn ar sinnsearan;
Ghlèidheadh an àite le cùram is tuigs’,
’s cha bhris sinn an ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn.
Ar fearann ga thoirt bhuainn gun luach air ar duais,
Luachair is fraoch far robh cluaintean gam buan;
Tha oighreachdan ’s fèidh ann seach dùthchas nan daoin’,
Ach cha bhris sinn an ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn.
Air ar caitheamh bhon tìr, air ar mealladh fad linn,
Chan e ’n cànan a-mhàin a chailleadh bhon t-sìth,
Ach làn-chearcall nàdur a bhàsaich fon lasadh,
A’ bristeadh an ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn.
Uachdarain an- diugh fo chleòc’ an spòrs ùr,
Iolair’ is sionnach a’ sealg ar saoirse;
Ach cà ’il sin a’ fàgail fallaineachd na talmhainn
A chumadh leis an ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn?
Nach till sinn ar daoine dhan na glinn a tha sàmhach,
An crodh is an còrn is an ceòl is an càirdeas;
Suas chun an àirigh ’tilleadh anam dha na h-ainmean,
Is beòthaicheamaid ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn.
Dhèanadh Gàidheil mòr-ghàirdeachais gràdhach ri ’n tìr,
Togail ginealach ùr leis an dualchas bu dual;
Cha bhiodh gainnead de bhiadh ’fàs air croitean cho brèagha,
Le beartas a’ cheangail leis an àite dham buin sinn.
O fàsamaid fuinn o teudan talamh torrach,
Ùir a bhiathaich mòran le tionndadh iomadh làmh,
Ged bhiodh i ùine na tost, tillidh tuigse,
A’ neartachadh ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn.
A choimhearsnachdan làidir nach gabh sibh ur sealbh,
Air fearann a ghlèidh ur sinnsearan;
Fàsaidh an t-eòrna is eòlas san òigear,
’s cha bhris sinn an ceangal leis an àite dham buin sinn.
the place to which we belong
We had custodianship for centuries,
Of the lands and the glens of our ancestors;
Maintaining the ecosystem with care and wisdom,
And we won’t break our tie with the place to which we belong.
Our land was taken from us without appreciating our prize,
Rushes and heather are now where pastures were once reaped;
Estates and deer are in place of a people’s cultural tie to their place,
But we won’t break our tie with the place to which we belong.
Thrown from the land, and deceived through the centuries,
It’s not just the language that has been lost from the peace,
But it was the full cycle of nature that was killed in the blaze,
Breaking our tie with the place to which we belong.
Lairds of today under a new sport’s disguise,
Eagles and wolves that hunt our freedom,
But where does that leave the health of the land,
That was maintained by our tie with the place to which we belong.
Let us return our people to the glens that are silent,
The cattle and the corn and the music and the friendship;
Up to the shieling, returning a soul to the [place]names,
Rejuvenating our tie with the place to which we belong.
Gaels would delight lovingly in their land,
Raising a new generation with the heritage they are due;
There would be no shortage of food growing on such fine crofts,
With the richness of our tie with the place to which we belong.
O let us grow melodies from the strings of fertile ground,
Soil that fed many by the skill of numerous hands,
Though silent for a while, understanding will return,
Strengthening our tie with the place to which we belong.
Strong communities: take up possession
Of the land that was kept by your ancestors;
Barley will grow, as will knowledge in the young,
And we won’t break our tie with the place to which we belong.