Danmark / Denmark
My homeland, how beautiful you are
Amidst the silver-blue waters
Carrying golden fruits in your arms
And a garland of beach around your brow
With saga writing and bard-song
Of old great memories
With the mild, soft sound of the language
And mild soft women
But mild and soft like the land itself
Like heaven and like earth
Like the sound of the language and the soul of woman
The Danish man has become.
With the weight of unprovoked burdens
He will walk without resentment
And rather than act boldly
He will in patience suffer.
He cares mostly for peace and quiet
And prefers to do things gently
He praises the good cause
But defends it half-heartedly.
He will not straightway grab the steel
When his rights are violated.
No - first he must have had to much
Then he will think it over.
But when his elephant nature
Has once been aroused
Then he stands like a rock
Then he has courage, then he has strength
And burns for his honour.
Then he has both hands on the shaft.
Mercy upon he who is hit.
My homeland, my wonderful home
Whom heavy days repress
Out of them you soon will come
With the saved ornament of honour.
You will never again be a slave
And never again feel the foreign scourge
If your freedom is taken away
Well, then we take it back.