Despoiled and blood-drenched by the foe
You rise before my eyes.
Many a hundred miles I'll go
To see your stirring skies.

When blossom from your apple-trees
Or leaves in autumn fall,
I'll go to you, though on my knees
Through rain and cold I'll crawl.

Today the heavy clouds of war
Enshroud your lovely face...
How are your towns I see no more?
Grim ruins take their place.

You wring your hands in grief and pain:
Where are my sons, my loyal guards?
In empty homesteads chill winds reign
And moles dig up the yards.

Over the Nieman night drags on
But it shall not last long.
I'll come to you one day at dawn
To soothe you with my song.