Our Land (Runeberg)



1.


 * Our land, our land, our Fatherland!
 * Ring out, dear word, oh sound!
 * No rising hill, or mountain grand,
 * No sloping dale, no northern strand,
 * There is, more loved, to be found,
 * Than this — our fathers’ ground.

2.


 * Our land is poor, and so shall be
 * To him who gold will crave.
 * The strangers proudly pass, but we
 * Shall ever love this land, we see,
 * In moor, and fell, and isle and wave,
 * A golden land, so brave.

3.


 * We love our rippling brooks, so bright,
 * Our gushing streams, so strong,
 * The whisper of dark woods, at night,
 * Our starry skies, our summer light,
 * All, all that we, in sight and song,
 * Have felt and lived among.

4.


 * Here fought our fathers, without fear,
 * With sword, and plough, and thought.
 * And here, in clouded times, and clear,
 * With fortune in their front or rear,
 * Their Finnish hearts have beat, and wrought
 * And borne what bear they ought.

5.


 * Who tells, of all the fights, the tale,
 * In which this folk withstood,
 * When war did rage from dale to dale,
 * When frost set in, with hunger’s wail?
 * Who measured all their pouring blood,
 * And all their patience good?

6.


 * And it was here their blood was shed,
 * For us, here, on this shore;
 * And it was here their joys were bred,
 * Here, that their sighs were heaved and fled,
 * That people’s who our burdens bore
 * Before us, long before.

7.


 * Here it is sweet and good, we wot,
 * All, too, is giv’n us here;
 * However fate may cast our lot,
 * A land, a fatherland, we’ve got.
 * Will there a thing on earth appear
 * More worthy, to hold dear?

8.


 * And here’s, and here’s this fatherland,
 * Here every eye it sees;
 * And we can stretch a pointing hand,
 * To show, with joy, its sea and strand,
 * And say, “Behold this country, this,
 * Our Fatherland it is.”

9.


 * And if we once were made to rise
 * To gold clouds, from below,
 * And if we moved in starry skies,
 * Where no one weeps, where no one sighs,
 * To this poor lonely country, though,
 * Our longing hearts would go.

10.


 * Oh land, the thousand lakes’ own land,
 * Of faith, and lay, and glee,
 * Where life’s main sea gave us a strand,
 * Our fore-time’s land, our future’s land,
 * Shy of thy poorness, never be,
 * Be calm, be glad, be free!

11.


 * Thy blossom, hidden now from sight,
 * Shall burst its bud ere long.
 * Lo! from our love, shall rise aright,
 * Thy sun, thy hope, thy joy, thy light,
 * And higher, once, more full and strong,
 * Shall ring Our Country’s song.

Maamme Maamme (1857) Maamme (Kiljander) Maamme (Schröder) Vårt land