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Drawn by allurement of the Prussian poplar,
Stretches its fearless arms, as formerly,
Leaping the river, with luxuriant wreaths,
Twines with its loved one on a foreign shore.
The nightingales from Kowno's groves of oak
Still with their brethren of Zapuszczan mount,
Converse, as once, in Lithuanian speech.
Or having on free pinions 'scaped, they fly,
As guests familiar, on the neutral isles.

And mankind?—War has severed human kind!
The ancient love of nations has departed
Into oblivion. Love by time alone
Uniteth human hearts.—Two hearts I knew.

O Niemen! soon upon thy fords shall rush
Hosts bearing death and burning, and thy shores,
Sacred till now, the axe shall render bare
Of all their garlands; soon the cannon's roar
Shall from the gardens fright the nightingales.
Where nature with a golden chain hath bound,
The hatred of the nations shall divide;
It severs all things. But the hearts of lovers
Shall in the Wajdelote's song unite once more.