O Vrba! srečna, draga vas domača,
kjer hiša mojega stoji očeta;
de b' uka žeja me iz tvojga svéta
speljala ne bila, goljfiva kača!
Ne vedel bi, kako se v strup prebrača
vse, kar srce si sladkega obeta;
mi ne bila bi vera v sebe vzeta,
ne bil viharjov nótranjih b' igrača!
Zvestó srce in delavno ročico
za doto, ki je nima miljonarka,
bi bil dobil z izvoljeno devico;
mi mirno plavala bi moja barka,
pred ognjam dom, pred točo mi pšenico
bi bližnji sosed vároval - svet' Marka.
O, Vrba, happy village, my old home -
My father's cottage stands there to this day.
The lure of learning beckoned me away.
Its serpent wiles enticing me to roam,
Else had I never known that heart's joy,
Sweet promise, could become a poisoned draught,
Not known myself of self-belief bereft,
Tossed in internal tempests like a toy.
A dowry riches never could surpass,
A faithful heart, a hand that's made for work,
Would have come with a chosen country lass
Serenely onward would have sailed my bark,
My house from fire, my corn from hailstorm loss
Safeguarded by my neighbour near, Sain Mark.
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