Voices from Eger

Snow on the earth, clouds in the sky!

Who cares? Let it be so.
None need to marvel, for this is

The winter's daily show.
And by my faith, I could not tell

When winter came,
Did not a glance into the street

The fact proclaim.
I sit here in this cheerful room

With faithful friends around,
Who fill my bowl with "egri" wine.

Such as but here is found.
The friends are true, the wines are good;

Who would have more?
I now enjoy such happy days

As ne'er before.

If my contentment had but seeds,

I'd sow them o'er the snow;
A rosy bower then would bloom

And in the winter grow.
And if to heaven I then might cast

My joyous heart.
To all the world it, like the sun,

Warmth would impart.

From here the mountain I can see.

Where Dobo once his name
Inscribed with sword and Turkish blood

Upon the page of fame.
Ah! until such man as he

Again we see.
Much water will the Danube bear

Into the sea.

Ah! long is withered now and dead

The Magyar's blooming spring,
And apathy inglorious

Doth to the nation cling.
Will ever spring again return

Into our land?
And will once more our plains and fields

In growth expand?
'Tis joyless thought; but seldom I

Enjoy a feast so rare.
So let us not our pleasure mar

By memories fraught with care;
And, after all, do sighs abate

Or temper grief?
The minstrel 'tis alone who finds

In song relief. j

Let us our country's cares not heed

For this one day alone,
And each sad thought of her let us

Now, while we drink, postpone.
Fill up once more! Another glass

Of glowing wine
And still one more to follow that

None should decline.

Well, well! What do I notice now?

A cycle means each glass;
My 'mind now in the future roams

While I the present pass.
And in this future I once more

Again rejoice,
For now throughout my fatherland

Rings freedom's voice.