Nitra, lovely Nitra,
Noble, lofty Nitra,
There was a time you bloom'd;
Oh, why have you been doom'd?

Look! I love no other,
Thou, my Slovak mother;
Behold—and pity me;
What tears I shed for thee!

You were the holy place
Which saw Saint Method's face;
He brought here God's own word,
That all our people heard.

Now greed and worldly lust
Have laid you in the dust;
That is the law of change;
To it the world must range.