O, Vrba, happy village, my old home -
My father's cottage stands there to this day.
The lure of learning beckoned me away.
Its serpent wiles enticing me to roam,
Else had I never known that heart's joy,
Sweet promise, could become a poisoned draught,
Not known myself of self-belief bereft,
Tossed in internal tempests like a toy.
A dowry riches never could surpass,
A faithful heart, a hand that's made for work,
Would have come with a chosen country lass
Serenely onward would have sailed my bark,
My house from fire, my corn from hailstorm loss
Safeguarded by my neighbour near, Sain Mark.
