J.L. Runeberg, headmaster of Porvoo
(Borgå) Lyceum, had written the original text in Swedish,
Vårt land (Our Land), two years earlier.
The poem was pua collection of 35 heroic ballads set in the days of the
War of Finland in 1808-09.
As a result of this war, Sweden ceded Finland to Russia in the 1809
Treaty of Hamina.
Runeberg’s aim was to stir Finnish patriotic feeling with his epic.
He is said to have been inspired to write Vårt land by Mihaly
Vörösmarty’s Szózat, the Hungarian national anthem
published in 1836.
Until well into the twentieth century, Finns responded strongly to the
idealistic and political idealism of Fänrik Ståls
sägner
and Vårt land. Runeberg was promptly elevated to the status of
‘national poet’.
The Tales of Ensign Stål were much appreciated throughout all of
Scandinavia.
Up until the time of Finland's independence in 1917–18, when the song
began to be recognized as specifically applying to Finland,
Pacius's tune and Runeberg's text were often also sung in Denmark,
Norway, and Sweden.
The poem's theme is, furthermore, remarkably similar to
that of the national anthems of Sweden (Du gamla, Du fria) and
Norway (Ja, vi elsker dette landet).
Runeberg was a conservative and moderate
nationalist, and loyal to the powers that be.
The main concern of the authorities was to prevent the emergence of
radical ideas;
the revolutionary spirit of the Marseillaise was finding some support
in Finland at the time.
Vårt land helped appease the patriotic yearnings of the students,
and the bloodshed seen in other parts of Europe was averted in Finland.
Several composers had already attempted to set
Runeberg’s lofty poem
before Fredrik Pacius, a German-born composer and music lecturer at the
University of Helsinki,
but his was the first version to gain widespread popularity.
The composer himself conducted the university choir in a slow, majestic
first performance, andante maestoso,
which moved the crowd to tears.
Pacius’s tune was later also adopted for Mu isamaa (My Country), the
Estonian national anthem from 1918 to 1940 and again since 1990.
The historians like to say that Finland was born
on Flora’s Day, May 13, 1848.
Fredrik Cygnaeus, chairman of the student body, made the main speech at
the celebration, concluding with the toast "To Finland".
The student body had a flag, representing a laurel-crowned lion on a
white field, made specially for the celebration;
this can be said to have been the first Finnish flag.
At the end the audience, several hundred strong, jubilantly joined in
with Vårt land.
For the first time, the idea of a distinct Finnish national identity
had been put forward.
Vårt land rapidly won general acceptance
as an expression of patriotic sentiment,
especially after Paavo Cajander
had published his polished Finnish translation (Maamme) towards the end
of the 19th century.
| Vårt land (the original, by Johan Ludvig Runeberg) Vårt land, vårt land, vårt fosterland, Ljud högt, o dyra ord! Ej lyfts en höjd mot himlens rand, Ej sänks en dal, ej sköljs en strand, Mer älskad än vår bygd i nord, Än våra fäders jord. Vårt land är fattig, skall så bli För den, som guld begär. En främling far oss stolt förbi: Men detta landet älska vi, För oss med moar, fjäll och skär Ett guldland dock det är. Vi älska våra strömmars brus Och våra bäckars språng. Den mörka skogens dystra sus, Vår stjärnenatt, vårt sommarlju. Allt, allt, vad här som syn, som sång Vårt hjärta rört en gång. Här striddes våra fäders strid Med tanke, svärd och plog. Här, här, i klar som mulen tid. Med lycka hård, med lycka blid. Det finska folkets hjärta slog. Här bars vad det fördrog. Vem täljde väl de striders tal. Som detta folk bestod. Då kriget röt från dal till dal. Då frosten kom med hungers kval. Vem mätte allt dess spillda blod Och allt dess tålamod? Och det var här det blodet flöt, Ja, här för oss det var, Och det var här sin fröjd det njöt, Och det var här sin suck det göt. Det folk som våra bördor bar Långt före våra dar. Här är oss ljuvt, här är oss gott, Här är oss allt beskärt; Hur ödet kastar än vår lott. Ett land, ett fosterland vi fått, Vad finns på jorden mera värt Att hållas dyrt och kärt? Och här och här är detta land. Vårt öga ser det här, Vi kunna sträcka ut vår hand Och visa glatt på sjö och strand Och säga: se det landet där. Vårt fosterland det är. Och fördes vi att bo i glans Bland guldmoln i det blå, Och blev vårt liv en stjärnedans. Där tår ej göts, där suck ej fanns. Till detta arma land ändå Vår längtan skulle stå. O land, du tusen sjöars land, Där sång och trohet byggt, Där livets hav oss gett en strand, Vår forntids land, vår framtids land. Var för din fattigdom ej skyggt. Var fritt, var glatt, var tryggt. Din blomning , sluten än i knopp, Skall mogna ur sitt tvång; Se, ur vår kärlek skall gå opp Ditt ljus, din glans, din fröjd, ditt hopp. Och högre klinga skall en gång Vår fosterländska sång. |
Maamme (translation by Paavo Cajander) Oi maamme, Suomi, synnyinmaa, soi, sana kultainen. Ei laaksoa, ei kukkulaa, ei vettä, rantaa rakkaampaa, kuin kotimaa tää pohjoinen, maa kallis isien. On maamme köyhä, siksi jää, jos kultaa kaivannet. Sen vieras kyllä hylkäjää, mut meille kallein maa on tää, sen salot, saaret, manteret ne meist on kultaiset. Ovatpa meille rakkahat koskemme kuohuineen, ikuisten honkain huminat, täht´yömme, kesät kirkkahat, kaikk´kuvineen ja lauluineen mi painui sydämeen. Täss auroin, miekoin, miettehin isämme sotivat, kum päivä piili pilvihin tai loisti onnen paistehin, täss Suomen kansan vaikeimmat he vaivat kokivat. Tään kansan taistelut ken voi ne kertoella, ken? Kun sota laaksoissamme soi, ja halla näläntuskan toi, ken mittasi sen hurmehen ja kärsimykset sen? Täss on sen veri virrannut hyväksi meidänkin, täss iloaan on nauttinut ja murheitansa huokaillut se kansa, jolle muinaisin kuormamme pantihin. Tääll´olo meill on verraton ja kaikki suotuisaa, vaikk onni mikä tulkohon, maa isänmaa se meillä on. Mi maailmass on armaampaa ja mikä kallimpaa? Ja tässä, täss´ on tämä maa, sen näkee silmämme. me kättä voimme ojentaa ja vettä rantaa osoittaa ja sanoa: kas tuoss´ on se, maa armas isäimme. Jos loistoon meitä saatettais vaikk´ kultapilvihin, mis itkien ei huoattais, vaan tärkein riemun sielu sais, ois tähän köyhään kotihin haluamme kuitenkin. Totuuden, runon kotimaa maa tuhatjärvinen miss´ elämämme suojan saa, sa muistojen, sa toivon maa, ain ollos, onnees tyytyen, vapaa ja iloinen. Sun kukoistukses kuorestaan se kerran puhkeaa, viel lempemme saa hehkullaan sun toivos, riemus nousemaan, ja kerran, laulus synnyinmaa korkeemman kaiun saa. |
Our Land (translation by Fredrik Haerne) Our land, our land, our Motherland, Soar high, o precious words! No hill would rise to skies above, No valley sink, no river flow, More precious than our home and hearth, Our fathers' northern earth. Our land is poor, will so remain, For he, who gold demands, A stranger passes proudly by; But this our land love we, love I, For us with valleys, mounts and strands A land of gold here stands. We love our rivers with their roar, The bends of our streams, The sighs of forests dark and bright, Our starlit night, our summerlight, All, all, which here as sight, as song, To our hearts belong. Here fought our fathers battles hard With thought, with plow and swords, Here, here, in bright as sullen tide, With fortunes hard, with fortunes mild, The Finnish people's hearts and words Stood proud in fortunes wild. What writ can tell us of the strife That fell upon their lands, When warcries roared from hill to hill, When winter came with deadly chill, Who measured all the fallen blood, Entombed by patient hands? And it was here, that blood did fall, Yes, here for us it was, And it was here, that men stood bold, And it was here, that hardship called The people that our burdens wore In stories never told. Here life is good, here life is well Where Finnish roots are deep; However fates will toss our lot, A land, a Fatherland we got, And what is more on earth to tell, Of fortunes worth to keep? Yes, here's the Finnish Fatherland, Our eyes upon it gaze; We want to reach out with our hands And show with joy to sea and strands And say: that land you see before Your eyes, is our shore! And if we went to live in light On clouds of gold above, And were our lives a starlit dance, Where tears were not, nor fallen chance, For this our somber land we still Would long, and always will. O land, you land of thousand lakes, With song and faithful shore, Where fate has offered us its hand, Our ancient land, our future land, Where poverty has weight no more, Be free, be strong, be grand! Your morrow, deep in slumber still, shall rise up from its bonds; See, with love we cherish thee For bright and graceful you will be And once again with promise strong Shall rise our nation's song. |