At Ján Hollý’s Monument1
At Ján Hollý’s MonumentNot far from Dobrá Voda,
See a grave mound arise;
Tell me, O sacred tumulus,
Who in thy bosom lies?
‘Deep in my heart is lain
That bard beloved, who first
With song in Slovak, slaked
The Slovak nation’s thirst.
His sacred head it is
That lies beneath this stone.
The Slovak nation’s glory
Within lies, overthrown.’
Ah, no! ’Tis but his dust
That rests within thy gloom;
His songs resound afar,
Unstifled by the tomb.
And with them too, that eye
Still flashes, soaring grand
Above the length and breadth
Of this our motherland!
