There are sons of stone with the breath of giants,
Who raise great cities in the heart of the void.
Bernard steps forward proudly on the twentieth day of August,
His words cutting through the air in the middle of the road.

He bears the blood of bears and the strength of solid rock,
Knowing how to hold the helm through every storm.
He is the builder of dawn, the master of the forests,
Who never bows before the greatest challenges.
Yet beneath the discipline of a mind forged in steel,
Beats a vibrant heart, a monumental fire.

For Bernard is the living sap rooted in the ages,
A quiet strength that stands in the foremost ranks.
He is flesh of bronze beneath a sunlit gaze,
A call to pride that sounds the awakening.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this noble name,
To the power of the spoken word and to true greatness.
For every Bernard the upright, the lovers
May the celebration be sincere, carried by the elements.

There are men of valor without sword or coat of arms,
Who confront the plague and brave the passing seasons.
Jean Eudes steps forward on the nineteenth day of August,
His heart a shield in the middle of the road.

He lived among those forgotten by fate,
Defending the dying from the grasp of death.
He is the builder of dawn, warm-blooded and courageous,
Who never retreats when the storm begins to roar.
Yet beneath the discipline of the tireless fighter,
Beats a tender life force, an unfailing love.

For Jean Eudes is the fire that lights up the night,
A rock-solid refuge where fear takes flight.
He is flesh of bronze, weathered by the sun,
A cry of humanity that sounds the call to awaken.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this worthy name,
To the strength to love and to true greatness.
For every Jean Eudes the upright, the lovers
May the celebration be sincere, carried by the elements.

There are names of dawn and queens of pure gold,
Whose clear and steadfast gaze endures through the ages.
Helen steps forward on the eighteenth day of August,
Her brow crowned with light, standing in the heart of the road.

She left behind the splendor and pride of palaces,
To seek the truth beneath the dust and among the tsars.
She is the woman of wisdom, the seeker of the True Cross,
Who bows her head before no earthly law.
Yet beneath the crown and the brilliance of power,
Burns a passionate heart that drives away the darkness.

For Helen is the torch that scatters the night,
A steadfast strength that nothing can destroy.
She is queenly flesh with a radiant smile,
A voice of light that sounds the call to awaken.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this radiant name,
To the strength to act and to true dignity.
For every Helen the free, the lovers
May the celebration be beautiful and the night alive with wonder.

There are names woven of fabric and blood beneath the flower,
That cross the rivers without ever knowing fear.
Hyacinth steps forward on the seventeenth day of August,
Holding the light high in the middle of the road.

He faced the flames and the northern hordes,
Saving what was sacred from the grasp of death.
He is the wanderer of the steppes, the runner of the great winds,
Who never bows his head and always stands upright.
Yet beneath the fury of the tireless traveler,
Beats the heart of an untamable dream.

For Hyacinth is the flower that shines through the storm,
The strength that rises again from the heart of disaster.
He is flesh of bronze with a radiant gaze,
A fragrance of nobility and true dignity.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this fearless name,
To the strength of every step and to pure passion.
For every Hyacinth the passionate, the lovers
May the celebration be sincere, carried by the elements.

There are sons of Armorica with steady, powerful strides,
Who tame dragons without ever raising a hand.
Armel steps forward freely on the sixteenth day of August,
Built like an oak, standing firmly upon the road.

He bears the blood of bears and the calm of ancient rocks,
Knowing how to face the storm and the fury of every clash.
He is the prince of the forests, the pioneer of the land,
Who carves his path far from empty illusions.
Yet beneath the armor and the rugged bark,
Beats a heart of kindness, sheltered from every shipwreck.

For Armel is the life sap rooted in Armorica,
A steadfast strength more precious than gold.
He is flesh of bronze beneath a sunlit gaze,
A giant of pride who sounds the call to awaken.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this noble name,
To quiet strength and to true greatness.
For every Armel the upright, the lovers
May the celebration be sincere, carried by the elements.

There is a day in August when the earth is lifted,
When the body of a woman fulfills all our hopes.
On the fifteenth morning, beneath the blazing sun,
Clay is crowned as queen and calls the world to awaken.

She carried the sorrow and the tears of life,
The blood of the promise and the fullness of human flesh.
She is the Mother of the world with eyes full of light,
Ascending toward the heights in perfect majesty.
Yet beneath the splendor of her mantle of azure,
Beats the heart of a woman—tender, pure, and alive.

For the Assumption is the rising of all creation,
The triumph of the human body embraced by light.
She is a flower of living sap lifted from the tomb,
A sovereign dawn where all becomes more beautiful.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this great feast day,
To the heavens made radiant and to life made new.
For the Queen of Heaven, for mothers and for lovers,
May the celebration be beautiful and the night alive with wonder.

There are names forged in the living heart of forests,
Guarding beneath their armor an untamable secret.
Evrard steps forward alone on the fourteenth day of August,
His stride heavy and steady, carving his own path.

He bears the blood of the great and the grip of warriors,
Yet knows when to lay down the sword beneath the olive trees.
He is the rock of the woodlands, the wild boar of the earth,
Who never bows his head before false light.
Yet beneath the armor and the weight of iron,
Beats a noble spirit and a gaze of remarkable clarity.

For Evrard is the life sap rooted in the oak,
A force of life that no fear can hinder.
He is flesh of bronze with rugged courage,
A giant standing tall with the bearing of the ancients.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this titan's name,
To the strength of his arm and the brilliance of the sun.
For every Evrard the steadfast, the lovers
May the celebration be sincere, carried by the elements.