My Village    

Then, I think about the heroes that come from Finland's forests and settled on mountains and heed, where no arable lands existed, 
where never a tool gone in rate on gray barns and never a song died away in sunshine.

I see the prone in your future dreams and where the broke himself forward through stone and thickets.
To at the end a small district came forward, from the wilderness, from fire, smokes and sot, a district that now is our.

I can se them where the proud walked in their future dreams and broke ground throe stone on thickets.
At last a small valley came thru from dark illusions, an it came thru from some and dust, a land that now Is ours!

I bow for the heroes, where the sun gives is evening light and the sounds from cows in the mountains.

An new generations in now making their way, where once it was nothing

I see those that stood prone in its future dreams and broke himself forward in perspiration and starves through stone and thickets.
At the end, a little poor village stacks forward from the darkness.

Axel Fritiofsson