Native Land

The waves of the lake splash

and pines hum.

The frost of the north hurts,

Finnish grief it sings.

Woods bleak and stony, unlit,

there my mind rests.

There I will forget the pain,

stars and moon us bless.

O my native land, stand proud, facing the future.

You were never broken down, banished into the night

O my native land, stand proud, facing the future

you will never be broken down.

Not weather can frighten us

not to shrivel us winters

not the cruelty ofthe woods

take our blood and life.

Frothy rapids roar

and the hills high.

Woods of pine and forests of birch

over the wide rocks.