The wood is decked in light green leaf.
The swallow twitters in delight.
The lonely vine sheds joyous tears
Of interwoven dew and light.
Spring weaves a gown of green to clad
The mountain height and wide-spread field.
O when wilt thou, my native land,
In all thy glory stand revealed?

The full-orbed moon her lustre sheds
And floods the land with lambent light.
The snowy ridge of distant mounts
Dissolves into the heavens bright.
Deep quiet holds the breath of night;
My mother-land in silence lies,
Yet oft is heard an anguished moan
As Georgia in her slumber sighs.
I stand alone... The mountains, shades,
The slumber of my land caress.
O God! O God! when will we wake
And rise again to happiness?

O Georgian mother! Thou gavest sons
To home and land in days of yore.
The future braves were lulled to sleep
With lullabies and mountain lore.
Alas! those days are past, and now
By sorrow is thy country swayed.
Thy very breath of life is fled.
Thy warrior son is now a shade.
Where is the courage of our sires,
The dagger and the crushing blow,
The honour and the pride of old,
The fearless struggle with the foe?
But why should we shed idle tears
For glory that is past and gone;
Another star, O Georgians, must
We find to guide and lead us on.
It is our duty to prepare
The future for the people, and —
Ah here, O mother, is thy task,
Thy sacred duty to thy land:
Endow thy sons with spirits strong,
With strength of heart and honour bright,
Inspire them with fraternal love,
To strive for freedom and for right;
Infuse in them God's Gospel wise,
Give them true courage for the fight,
And thus enrich our land with sons
Who'll change this darkness into light.
O mother! hear thy country's plea:
Nurture thy sons with spirits strong
Led by the torch of truth whose flame
Will banish ignorance and wrong.