Let God sit down in free Poland someday
From golden rye, from rustling forests
God willing, and a day endless will come
For silver plows of arduous agony

The hammer stones will still resonate
And he will talk to hard ground with the ploughshare
And from all the stones I will cut up
A golden sheaf of sparkles

So when I watch the evening in spring
In the fog the beds are covered with gray
Someone in my heart forges with an ax
My homeland

So when I watch the evening in spring
In the fog the beds are covered with gray
Someone in my heart forges with an ax
My homeland

So when I watch the evening in spring
In the fog the beds are covered with gray
Someone in my heart forges with an ax
My homeland

So when I watch the evening in spring
In the fog the beds are covered with gray
Someone in my heart forges with an ax
My homeland