🎵 Geryow Diwettha yn Kernewek — Last Words in Cornish | Celtic Ballad in Cornish | English Subtitles

Описание: This song is told from the perspective of a dying bard — perhaps the last fluent speaker of his tongue — as he offers one final lament before silence takes hold. It is a personal farewell, but also a spiritual act of resistance: an ancient voice refusing to be forgotten.

Kernewek is one of the six remaining Celtic languages. It belongs to the Brythonic branch, alongside Breton and Welsh, and is the closest linguistic cousin to both. In fact, speakers of Breton and Welsh can often understand fragments of Cornish due to shared vocabulary and structure — echoes of a time when these languages were part of a continuous cultural world across the western fringe of Europe.

Cornwall, located in the far southwest of Britain, once had its own distinct language, culture, and identity. Kernewek was the everyday speech of farmers, sailors, tin miners, and poets — spoken along cliffs, across moorland, in fishing villages and stone chapels. But after centuries of pressure from English rule, economic hardship, and linguistic suppression — especially after the Prayer Book Rebellion of 1549, in which many Cornish speakers were killed for resisting the imposition of English in church — the language began to decline rapidly.

By the late 18th century, Cornish was considered dead as a native tongue. But it was never truly lost. Fragments survived in placenames, songs, proverbs, and memory. In the 20th century, a handful of passionate revivalists began to reconstruct the language from historical texts, creating Kernewek Kemmyn (Common Cornish) — the form used in this song.

Today, Cornish is still a minority language, but it lives again — taught in schools, spoken at home, sung at festivals. This song is part of that revival: a poetic offering to a culture that refused to vanish, and to a language that carries the soul of a people.

“Not all that’s buried is dead forever.
Words still grow with the strength of our roots.”

Let the bard’s final whisper rise through stone, sea, and voice.
The language is not dead.








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