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Vörösmarty Mihály

Appeal (Angol)

To your homeland without fail
Be faithful, O Hungarian!
It is your cradle and will your grave be
hich nurses, and will bury you.

In the great world outside of here
here is no place for you
May fortune's hand bless or beat you
Here you must live and die!

This ground on which so many times
Your fathers' blood flowed
This, to which, every holy name
One thousand years has coupled

Here fought for home the hero
Arpad's hosts
Here broke apart the prisoner's yoke
Hunyadi's arms

Freedom! Here is carried
Your bloody standard
And our best were felled
During the long war

And through so much ill fortune
After many feuds,
Though depleted, but not broken
The nation lives on this homeland.

And home of the nations, great earth!
Shouts bravely to you:
"A thousand years of suffering
demands life or death!"

It cannot be, that so many hearts
Uselessly spilled their blood
And in vain, so many faithful hearts
Were broken for the homeland.

It cannot be that mind, might
And so holy a will
Would uselessly wither
Under the weight of a curse;

It still needs to come, it still will come
A better age, for which
Fervent prayer yearns
On hundreds of thousands' lips.

Or it will come, if it must come
The glorious death
Where above the funeral
A nation wallows in blood

And the grave, where the nation is lowering,
Nations surround
And in the millions of peoples'
Eyes, a tear of mourning wells.

Be faithful, without fail
To your homeland, O Hungarian:
This is your succor, and if you fall
With its grave it covers you

In the great world outside of here
There is no place for you
May fortune's hand bless or beat you
Here you must live and die!

Kirkconnell, Watson


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