|
Runeberg's "Our Land"
by Fredrik Haerne
June 23, 2002
Between the years 1808 and 1809, Sweden fought its last war to date. The
Russian Empire attacked Finland, then part of Sweden, in an attempt to force
Sweden to join Russia's ally Napoleon in his war against Great Britain.
Sweden-Finland was attacked suddenly, without a declaration of war, and most
of its forces were still in Sweden, watching the southern border and the war
down south on the continent. Even so, when the war was over the Russians had
paid far more lives for their invasion than the Swedish and Finnish
defenders, and, fearing more unrest, Finland was allowed considerable autonomy
in the empire until it finally broke free.
Author Johan Ludvig Runeberg wrote a majestic war epos about these years, a
collection of poems that became a tribute to the Finnish spirit of
endurance, courage and loyalty - the "sisu." The name of this book is
"Fanrik Stals sagner," The Tales of Lieutenant Steel. It is written in
Swedish, which was widely spoken in Finland at the time, and still is. I
have attempted to translate one of the poems here, "Our Land," in hopes that at
least some of its fantastic composition will remain after its transformation
into English. Know your heritage -- know the sisu.
Our Land
Our land, our land, our Fatherland,
Soar high, o precious words!
No hill would rise to skies above,
No valley sink, no river flow,
More precious than our home and hearth,
Our fathers' northern earth.
Our land is poor, will so remain,
For he, who gold demands,
A stranger passes proudly by;
But this our land love we, love I,
For us with valleys, mounts and strands
A land of gold here stands.
We love our rivers with their roar,
The bends of our streams,
The sighs of forests dark and bright,
Our starlit night, our summerlight,
All, all, which here as sight, as song,
To our hearts belong.
Here fought our fathers battles hard
With thought, with plow and swords,
Here, here, in bright as sullen tide,
With fortunes hard, with fortunes mild,
The Finnish people's hearts and words
Stood proud in fortunes wild.
What writ can tell us of the strife
That fell upon their lands,
When warcries roared from hill to hill,
When winter came with deadly chill,
Who measured all the fallen blood,
Entombed by patient hands?
And it was here, that blood did fall,
Yes, here for us it was,
And it was here, that men stood bold,
And it was here, that hardship called
The people that our burdens wore
In stories never told.
Here life is good, here life is well
Where Finnish roots are deep;
However fates will toss our lot,
A land, a Fatherland we got,
And what is more on earth to tell,
Of fortunes worth to keep?
Yes, here's the Finnish Fatherland,
Our eyes upon it gaze;
We want to stretch out with our hands
And show with joy to sea and strands
And say: that land you see before
Your eyes, is our shore!
And if we went to live in light
On clouds of gold above,
And were our lives a starlit dance,
Where tears were not, nor fallen chance,
For this our somber land we still
Would long, and always will.
O land, you land of thousand lakes,
With song and faithful shore,
Where fate has offered us its hand,
Our ancient land, our future's land,
Where poverty has weight no more,
Be free, be strong, be grand!
Your morrow, deep in slumber still,
shall rise up from its bonds;
See, with love we cherish thee
For bright and graceful you will be
And once again with promise strong
Shall rise our nation's song.
FREDRIK HAERNE
|
