LITHUANIA

The Nemunas flows in strong repose

  And waters our native soil.

Birute's song in our brother's tongue

  Can lighten the ploughman's toil.

    As our rivers cross the eternal strand,

    So shall our songs resound in every land.

Where the jewels gleam, where the rue is green

  And graces a maiden's wreath,

Where the cuckoo's cry fills the forest high,

  Our cottages stand on the heath.

    Where the rue blooms and speckled birds rejoice,

    There our mother awaits the wonderer's voice.

When the sun of spring scatters shades from the ling,

  When the hay meets the reeper's hand,

When the stubble-corn is all cold and torn –

  Ever fair is our native land.

    In  winter's snows, in summer's ecstasy,

    None is dearer, lovelier than thee.

In the sun's bright rays or in clouded days

  Our heart returns to our home,

Where our fathers rest and their memory is blest,

  Where our sweat has watered the loam.

    In joy and hardship, quietude and strife,

    Be the land beloved more than life.

There the boyars rode to their Prince's abode

  And made the Teuton flee.

Our homage is due and our hearts are true

  To the land of our liberty.

    In her cause our fathers strove and bled,

    In her cause our blood shall yet be shed.

May the Lord of grace defend the place

  Where the bones of our ancestors lie.

May Thy powerful hand protect the land

  Where Thy children suffer and die.

    Shed still upon our home Thy mercy's light;

    Still hear us, Lord of everlasting might.

Translated by Rafael Sealey

(Very loose translation)