There are builders with proud and steadfast hands,
Who carve their path through iron and stone.
Fabrice steps forward on the twenty-second day of August,
A tool clenched in his fist, forging his own way.

He forged his name upon the anvil of time,
Never bowing beneath the blades of the wind.
He is the craftsman of truth, the maker of dawn,
Who values honest work above the glitter of gold.
Yet beneath the strength of his precise hands,
Beats a noble heart where courage has found its home.

For Fabrice is the grip and the rock united,
A steadfast strength upon the scorched earth.
He is flesh of bronze, weathered by the sun,
A spirit of perseverance that sounds the call to awaken.

Tomorrow, let us raise our glass to this steadfast name,
To the strength of hardworking hands and to true greatness.
For every Fabrice the steadfast, the lovers
May the celebration be sincere, carried by the elements.

There are broad shoulders carved from solid granite,
That brave the raging waters and forbidden streams.
Christopher steps forward on the twenty-first day of August,
His body shaped like an oak in the middle of the road.

He has carried men, burdens, and heavy loads,
Through stormy nights when faith seemed lost.
He is the giant of the fords, the guardian of crossings,
Who fears neither the river nor the fury of the storms.
Yet beneath his mighty stature and powerful arms,
Beats a tender life force that never fails.

For Christopher is the rock in the midst of the current,
A steadfast strength against the knives of the wind.
He is flesh of bronze that no flood can break,
A ferryman of courage at the heart of the gray earth.

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

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.