You are small, you easily find room
In the palms of a Čiurlionis' King...
You are like a slice of wholesome bread
On the festive table of the world...

On the globe you are a tiny patch,
A steel plate from a Grünwald suit of armour,
A trace of Pirčiupis ablaze with blood,
A crystal droplet of a sky-blue lake,
A bright green sunrise over fallow lands,
A rain of sunbeams on a city square.
On the globe you are an amber speck
With the scent of pinewood and the gleam of blood...

Only in our love you're truly great
And in our palms you are invincible
And in our dreams you are a fairy-tale
And in our eyes you are a land of sunshine.