Oh, precious Finland Oh, precious Finland The sound of your roiling rapids, and of your humming pine tree Let me listen to them until my final minute arrives. None of the other dearest can be found in the world, than this poor homeland, that has grown beautiful by the work of our grandfathers. The clearing within your wilderness, the golden cultivated field, now, it is our turn to create them. We want to give you, everything we have stand by you until our death. The clearing within your wilderness, the golden cultivated field now, it is our turn to create them. We want to give you everything we have, stand by you until our death. Oh Finland the native land Let your son to happily fall asleep on your lap, when he has given his cheap breath to you None of the honor is needed other than listening at his grave to the whisper of your spruce when you have buried him… to his final rest.