Out of my way now!
Black are my hands and damp is my clothing.
Only a miner am I, you are a noble to-day.
You're from a palace; a hut is my dwelling and home.
I wear a Phrygian cap; my eyes it will shade;
Orphans' sad prayers do not follow me;
Your hares have devoured the fruit of their fields.
Heartless and soulless you are, lightning smite you!
I am from Beskyd, thralldom and sorrow's son.
I slave in the foundery, I slave in your mine;
Gall seethes in my veins but I slave,
I catch your logs on the foaming water's wave.
Black am I, poor am I, sweat pours from my brow;
Children in Beskyd weep not from me now.
Widows oppressed I not, nor have I seized their share,
And so a beggar am I, a noble you are to-day.
Did you arrive in the mountains? Take care!
I wear a Phrygian cap. Get out of my way.