“My Motherland, I sing

Her splendid streams, her glorious trees,

The zephyr from the far-off Vindyan heights,

Her fields of waving corn,

The rapturous radiance of her moonlit nights,

The trees in flower that flame afar,

The smiling days that sweetly vocal are,

The happy, blessed Motherland.

Her will by seventy million throats extolled,

Her power twice seventy million arms uphold;