🚧I love our land
Kanstantsia BuiloВедах беларускіх
Translated by
| ** | ** LOVE our land |
I love our land, my mother country Where I was born, and where I grew, Where for the first time I met gladness, And wept my tears of sorrow too.
I love our Byelorussian people, Their huts mid orchards green I love, The golden grain upon the meadows, The rustle of the wood and grove.
The river, whose swift-flowing waters Stream forth upon their distant ways, Its sloping shores, embankments sandy, The coolness of its lucid waves.
I love the spring, whose leaves and flowers So gladly beautify the earth, The storks upon their nests a-dattering:
I love the skylark’s tuneful mirth.
The burning sultry sun of summer, The sudden shower of pouring rain, When thunder rolls, and lightning flashes Through ink-black clouds again, again.
With all my soul I love the autumn,
The first sweet swish of sickle and scythe, When through the rye there go the reapers, And when haymakers rake the swathe.
I love the silvery frosts of winter, Which graves its patterns on the glass, The pure white snow which hides the pastures, And sparkles like the brilliant stars.
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I love, when weather is inviting, At evening in the yard to sit, To gaze upon the blue stars gleaming, And then the golden moon to meet.
I love my native songs resounding, Which girls are singing on the road, And deeper tones which over meadows Come pouring forth and freely float.
All this of yours my heart rejoices: For this I love our land so dear, Where first to joy I grew accustomed, Were first to sorrow’s salty tear.
Translated by Walter May__.
ЕЎДАКІЯ ЛОСЬ
KANSTANTSIA BUILO
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