Lofty mountains of Albania

Lofty mountains of Albania

dressed with old and stately wood,

Widespread fields bedecked with flowers –

which I cherish in every mood-

Chrystal waters of her rivers,

lovely banks along their course,

Forest clad in green and ridges,

vales and hills and verdant shores:

I will sing and chant the splendor

of the flocks that pasture there,

and of my dear mother country,

e’er so pretty, e’er so fair,

That has shared with me her honor;

that has given me my name,

Of Albanian, whom she tempered

with a sturdy heart of flame.

In exile though I be living

yet my heart is not with me,

In the bosom of Albania

it does seek eternety.

Like a lamb whose mother’s bleating

lures him hither and away

From its fold, where no entreting

will succeed to make it stay;

Or men-ten-fold however trying

to hold it back by force or scare,

It will yet dart like a lightning

to its loving mother’s care:

So my heart within me pounding

flees from me and comes to stay

in your countryside so lovely,

in your regions far away:

Where the springs are cool in summer,

where refreshing breezes blow,

Where the trees and medows bloom,

where sweet-scented flowers grow.

Where the teeming flocks are grazing,

where the shepherd blows his horn,

Where the goats are ruminating …

there my thoughts are ev’ry morn.