National Anthem of Finland in Swedish: "Vårt land"

Finland and Sverige stronk 🇸🇪🇫🇮🇸🇪🇫🇮

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Sang by baritone John Forsell

"Vårt land" is the national anthem of Finland in Swedish, which is the original.

The music was composed by the German immigrant Fredrik Pacius, with original Swedish lyrics by Johan Ludvig Runeberg. It was first performed on 13 May 1848. Originally, it was written for the 500th anniversary of Porvoo, and for that occasion it was Runeberg himself who wrote the music.

The original poem, written in 1846 but not printed until 1848, had 11 stanzas and formed the prologue to the verse cycle The Tales of Ensign Stål ("Fänrik Ståhls sägner"), a classic example of Romantic nationalism. The current Finnish language text is usually attributed to the 1889 translation of Ensign Stål by Paavo Cajander, but in fact, originates from the 1867 translation by Julius Krohn.

The original lyrics consist of eleven verses, but it is customary to only sing the first verse and the last verse unless the people gathered are mixed Finnish- and Swedish-speaking. In the latter case, three verses are sung: the first in Finnish, the first in Swedish and the last in Finnish.

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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.

Vi älska våra strömmars brus
Och våra bäckars språng.
Den mörka skogens dystra sus,
Vår stjärnenatt, vårt sommarljus.
Allt, allt, vad här som syn, som sång
Vårt hjärta rört en gång.

Vårt land är fattigt, 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.

⍟------ TRANSLATION ------⍟
Our land, our land, our Fatherland!
Ring out, oh dear word!
No rising hill, or mountain grand,
No sloping dale, no northern strand,
There is, more loved, to be found,
Than this — our fathers' ground.

We love our rippling brooks, so bright,
Our gushing streams, so strong,
The whisper of dark woods, at night,
Our starry skies, our summer light,
All, all that we, in sight and song,
Have felt and lived among.

Our land is poor, and so shall be
To him who gold will crave.
The strangers proudly pass, but we
Shall ever love this land, we see,
In moor, and fell, and isle and wave,
A golden land, so brave.