Songs of the Slav/70,000
There 're seventy thousand of us
Before Těšíin, before Těšín.
A hundred thousand Germanized,
A hundred thousand Polanized,
A holy peace rests in my heart.
When we remain but seventy,
Of thousands only seventy.
May we live?
They're digging seventy thousand
Graves for us all before Těšín.
At times some one sobs to the space
Above. His plea remains unfilled:
A foreign god laughs in his face.
And bluntly we gaze in a flock
How they place our heads upon the block,
As ox at slaughter of an ox.
And marquis Gero is so rich:
Give casks to us for seventy,
Give casks for thousands seventy.
A half of us will Germanize,
A half of us will Polanize,
A hundred lips will peal for thee:
Hail, marquis Gero, hail to thee!
But first before we perish thus,
May ruddy wine intoxicate us,
Bond-woman, daughter, man and son,
Before Těšín, before Těšín.