My Country
Scanty Nature of my native land, you are dear to my sad soul! Formerly, in the days of my fleeting spring, the distant shores of other countries enticed me.
And my glowing imagination painted brilliant pictures before me: I saw the transparently blue vault of the heavens, and the crenelated summits of mighty mountains.
Merged in the gold of midday beams, it seemed to me, the myrtle, the planes, and the olive trees called me into the shade of spreading branches, and roses beckoned silently to me——
Those were days when my spirit did not ponder, among the seductions of life, over the aims of existence, and, being frivolous, I only demanded enjoyment from it.
But that time speedily disappeared without a trace,—and grief unexpectedly visited me, and much with which my soul was not familiar suddenly became dear to it.
I then abandoned my secret dream of a magic and distant land,—and in my country I discovered beauties invisible to the worldly eye.
Furrowed fields, ears of yellow grain-fields, the speechless, majestic expanse of the steppes, the freshets of broad rivers in the spring, mysteriously rustling oak-forests;
Sacred silence of poor villages, where the labourer, oppressed by misery, prayed to heaven for a new, a better day,—the great day of liberty, to rise over him;
I understood you then,—and near to my heart suddenly grew the song of my native land, whether in that song was heard deep pining or unrestrained hilarity.
My country, nothing in thee captivates the stranger's eye; but thou art dear by thy stern beauty to him who himself has yearned for freedom and the wide expanse, and whose spirit has borne oppressive fetters.
And my glowing imagination painted brilliant pictures before me: I saw the transparently blue vault of the heavens, and the crenelated summits of mighty mountains.
Merged in the gold of midday beams, it seemed to me, the myrtle, the planes, and the olive trees called me into the shade of spreading branches, and roses beckoned silently to me——
Those were days when my spirit did not ponder, among the seductions of life, over the aims of existence, and, being frivolous, I only demanded enjoyment from it.
But that time speedily disappeared without a trace,—and grief unexpectedly visited me, and much with which my soul was not familiar suddenly became dear to it.
I then abandoned my secret dream of a magic and distant land,—and in my country I discovered beauties invisible to the worldly eye.
Furrowed fields, ears of yellow grain-fields, the speechless, majestic expanse of the steppes, the freshets of broad rivers in the spring, mysteriously rustling oak-forests;
Sacred silence of poor villages, where the labourer, oppressed by misery, prayed to heaven for a new, a better day,—the great day of liberty, to rise over him;
I understood you then,—and near to my heart suddenly grew the song of my native land, whether in that song was heard deep pining or unrestrained hilarity.
My country, nothing in thee captivates the stranger's eye; but thou art dear by thy stern beauty to him who himself has yearned for freedom and the wide expanse, and whose spirit has borne oppressive fetters.
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