Les chants montent dans le pagodes A la gloire de la Sainte foi Bouddhique. Au vieux pays khmer, le Moha Nokor. Temples are asleep in the forest, Remembering the splendour of Moha Nokor. Like a rock the Khamer race is eternal. Let us trust in the fate of Campuchea, The empire which challenges the ages.
Songs rise up from the pagodas To the glory of holy buddhistic faith.
Let us be faithful to our ancestors' belief. Thus heaven will lavish its bounty Towards the ancient Khmer country, the Moha Nokor.