Broken Pines
The towering pines near sea-shore sands, The Wind has broken with ruthless hands - Their gaze on the future such yearnings extend, Refusing concealment and scorning to bend: "You broke us - despite it, you Tyrant-power, Against you the fight is not done, in this hour, Our very last moan carries faith in our fate, Each bough hissing at you, incessant in hate!" The towering pines, after breaking, will Come up from the deep like great ships, and still - Against all storms raise a proud-heaving breast, Against all storms anew the fight press: "Now hurl on your billows, you dark Storm-pride, We'll yet win the future, where happiness bides! For split us you may and break us you might - We'll yet win the future, where Dawn blazes bright!"
/Rainis/
