English translation

A treasure is our tongue that surges

From deep shadows of the past,

Chain of precious stones that scattered

All over our ancient land.

A burning flame is our tongue

Amidst a people waking

From a deathly sleep, no warning,

Like the brave man of the stories.

Our tongue is made of songs

From our soul's deepest desires,

Flash of lighting striking swiftly

Through dark clouds and blue horizons.

Our tongue is the tongue of bread

When the winds blow through the summer,

Uttered by our forefathers who

Blessed the country through their labour.

Our tongue is the greenest leaf

Of the everlasting forests,

Gentle river Nistru's ripples

Hiding starlight bright and shining.

Utter no more bitter cries now

That your language is too poor,

And you will see with what abundance

Flow the words of our precious country.

Our tongue is full of legends,

Stories from the days of old.

Reading one and then another

Makes one shudder, tremble and moan.

Our tongue is singled out

To lift praises up to heaven,

Uttering with constant fervour

Truths that never cease to beckon.

Our tongue is more than holy,

Words of homilies of old

Wept and sung perpetually

In the homesteads of our folks.

Resurrect now this our language,

Rusted through the years that have passed,

Wipe off filth and mould that gathered

When forgotten through our land.

Gather now the sparkling stone,

Catching bright light from the sun.

You will see the endless flooding

Of new words that overflow.

A treasure will spring up swiftly

From deep shadows of the past,

Chain of precious stones that scattered

All over our ancient land.

External links