Moje Slovensko

There, mountains rise,
Clothed in pine trees,
Veiled in wisps of cloud or shadows,
Or bathed in morning light;

Rolling hills are bare with fields
And capped with trees;
The morning dew smokes
Beneath the rising sun;

And waters, liquid crystal,
Flowing over mottled stones,
Laugh and chatter
Down countless cliffs.

Moje Slovensko—Oh! my Slovakia!
Home of wonder, earthly paradise!
Castles crumbling,
Ancient, forgotten,

Faithfully guard
The folded valleys,
And churches stand,
Proud and regal

Like kings in gold,
And vast as caverns.

Moje Slovensko, my own Slovakia!
Home of wonder, earthly paradise!

Yet the Bible is a forbidden thing,
And although the believing remnant
Abides in the full flood of light,
Most see but one ray of light.

Oh, God! May it not be
That the darkness there is too dark for Thee!
Do not withhold Your mercy
From the thousands in the night—

Moje Slovensko—Oh! my Slovakia!
Home of darkness, illusion of paradise.