As a poor outcast today do not come to you I, hey land of waters bright, hey land of hills so high.
Hey land tortured yesterday, hey land scorched whole, hey land with wounded chest, land blood-stained all.
Hey land forever condemned, confined all in woes, just as me till yesterday, lost and torn all around the world.
I come to you today, at the sun shining bright,
at the clear, free air of your song so nice and light.
Fill me, land, with songs, with happiness and joy. Give me your light, your full of blossoms
boughs. With a green peace, with love and many crafts, with the waters gentle and silent
of your lakes.
I bring you the blueness of my gulfs so clear
The fiery lime making my white villages so dear
and my song with no darkness, with no shackles and woe.
This is my voice: