"Ne hagyd elveszni Erdélyt Istenünk!"
"Dear Lord, Don't Let Us Lose Transylvania!"
S én nem tudom a sorsot, mit tartogat még ezutánra,
E végzetes ég alatt lesz-e még öröm?
De tudok annyit, hogy ha öröm helyett
Tüzes mennykövek szakadnak is itt le,
- Míg gyászosan évek százai húznak el -
Õk örömtelenül is, ha bajba tébolyodottan:
Itt fognak állni örökké, - hogy Imre szorítja,
Áron pedig ... Áron nem hagyja magát!
Lófürösztés, Tompa László
Rise up, Magyar, the country calls!
It's 'now or never' what fate befalls...
Shall we live as slaves or free men?
That's question - choose your 'Amen'!
God of Hungarians, we swear unto Thee,
We swear unto Thee - that slaves we shall no longer be!
For up till now we lived like slaves,
Damned lie our forefathers in their graves -
They who lived and died in freedom
Cannot rest in dusts of thraldom.
God of Hungarians, we swear unto Thee,
We swear unto Thee - that slaves we shall no longer be!
A coward and a lowly bastard
Is he, who dares not raise the standard -
He, whose wretched life is dearer
Than the country's sacred honor.
God of Hungarians, we swear unto Thee,
We swear unto Thee - that slaves we shall no longer be!
Sabers outshine chains and fetters,
It's the sword one's arm betters.
Yet we wear grim chains and shackles.
Swords, slash through the damned manacles!
God of Hungarians, we swear unto Thee,
We swear unto Thee - that slaves we shall no longer be!
Magyars' name will tell the story
Worthy of our erstwhile glory:
We must wash off - fiercely cleansing
Centuries of shame condensing.
God of Hungarians, we swear unto Thee,
We swear unto Thee - that slaves we shall no longer be!
Where our grave-mounds bulge and huddle
Our grandsons will kneel and cuddle,
while in grateful prayer they mention
All our sainted names' ascension.
God of Hungarians, we swear unto Thee,
We swear unto Thee - that slaves we shall no longer be!
NATIONAL SONG, SÁNDOR PETÕFI (1823-1849)
Translated by Adam Makkai (ISBN 0-9642094-0-3 "In Quest of the
Miracle Stag: The Poetry of Hungary")
