Far purer thy heart, and thy beauty more brave.
Wilija, thou flowest through Kowno’s fair vale,
Amid the gay tulips and narcissus pale.
At the feet of the maiden, the flower of our youth,
Than roses, than tulips, far fairer in sooth.
The Wilija despiseth the valley of flowers,
She seeks to the Niemen, her lover, to rove;
The Litwinka listens no love-tale of ours,
The youth of the strangers has filled her with love.
In powerful embrace doth the Niemen enfold,