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Ár Máthair, an mac tíre naofa sinsir,
Máthair bhunaidh na Fola, Cosantóir an Fhiántais;
Canaigh agus donálaigh do bheannachtaí chugainn.
Ceannasóir fíochmhar tairis na Foraoise,
Seirbhíseach síoraí na Gealaí.
Ó, a mháthair-mhic tíre is beannaithe,
Oscail pluais dhomhain do chroí;
Foscadh dúinn i do ghrásta fíochmhar—óir is sinne do chlann.

Faolaithe agus mic tíre na talún,
Tógaimid ár nguthanna go himeall na cruinne.
Óir gan nod tostach do cheannais,
Gan tine ómra do dhearcaidh,
Níl aon rud laistigh dínn—
Aon rud neamhchiontach.

Glantha ag do ghrá,
Slánaithe ag do Fhuil,
Glaoimid amach ar an oíche:
Cneasaigh an rud atá briste!
Lúb an rud atá dolúbtha!
Téigh an rud atá reoite!
Saor an rud atá ceangailte!

Bronn ar do mhuintir dhílis—
Ar gach duine a chuireann muinín sa sliocht—
Oidhreacht an fhiántais: Fuil na bhFaolaithe!
Deonaigh dúinn slánchúrsa trí scáth an bháis,
Agus aoibhneas síoraí as sin amach.

Our Mother, the holy, ancestral Wolf,
Progenitor of the Blood, Protector of the Wild;
Sing and howl your blessings down upon us.
Fierce and tender Sovereign of The Forest,
Eternal servant of the Moon.
O most blessed Wolf-Mother,
Open the deep den of your heart;
Shelter us in your fierce grace—for we are your children.

Werewolves and wolves of the earth,
We lift our voices to the edges of the world.
For without the silent nod of your command,
Without the amber fire of your gaze,
There is nothing within us—
Nothing innocent.

Cleansed by your love,
Healed by your Blood,
We cry out to the night:
Mend what is broken!
Bend what is rigid!
Warm what is frozen!
Free what is bound!

Bestow upon your faithful pack—
Upon all who place their trust in the lineage—
The heritage of the wild: the Blood of the Werewolf!
Grant us safe passage through the shadow of death,
And eternal joy thereafter.