O homeland, on the enthusiasm swing
our song floats up in your honor!
It should sound
like the roar of a storm, like the sound of a bell, so pure, so full and noble!
From Kurland's wooded areas
through Livland's mountain sows it
sounds brightly in triad to Estonia's beach,
greetings to us, O old homeland!
How the sea rushes around your white coasts
and sings a song of old Hansa power!
How proud and strong your fir trees boast that
stand lonely on high cliffs.
Whether storms crush them,
they defy storm and weather,
because their roots
through stone and sand sink them firmly into the old homeland!
And weather-resistant, the defiant head on the neck,
your sons' honor jewelry stands around you, your
fist ready to grab the hilt of the sword, your
hand ready for firm brotherly pressure.
Dedicated to you in
fighting and in love with heart and soul,
shield yourself, entwined hand in hand, your
homeland sons, old homeland!
May suffering,
let happiness drift through our days, we stand
firm , united unchangeable, “Firmly hold fast!” Should remain our motto,
as it was the pride and honor of the fathers!
You brothers, relatives, swear once more
that this paternal inheritance will
not die, nor ruin us ,
the old loyalty to the old homeland!
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