I call to Dylan, son of shining Arianhrod,
brother of Lleu of the skillful hand, beautiful boy,
bright of heart, bright of spirit, bright of countenance.
A babe newly born, you took to the sea,
swift and sure, and the sea took you as her own.
Child of the wave, yours is the deepest, coldest brine,
yours the stony strand; yours too the lost tale
of the third fatal blow, yours the endless crashing
of the vengeful surf. Dylan ail Don, fair-haired
and good-hearted, noble and true, great of might
and great of vision, O Dylan of the white swells,
I honor you, I offer you my praise.