Believe that to be nothing is a boon in this world!

To what end are deep knowledge, thirst for fame,

Talent, and ardent love of freedom,

Since we cannot make use of them?

We, the children of the north, like the local plants,

Flourish not for long; we fade quickly …

As the winter sun on the grey horizon

So is our life as gloomy, as transient

Its monotonous flow …

And it feels stifling in the mother country,

And the heart is heavy and the soul yearns.

Knowing neither love nor sweet friendship,

Amidst the futile storms our youth pines away

And quickly the poison of evil darkens it,

And for us is bitter the chilled cup of life,

And nothing cheers our soul again.