THE SHORTEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR

Where is that land?
From which he comes
Who is that wiseman?
Who knows to show the way

Where summer eternal reigns
And blossoms fill meadows green
A place we'll never be
Should all our lives we try to see

Just once a year it occurs
When shortest of all nights has come
The grey, old God himself commands
His son to ride to us

Over hills and through vales
Singing hymns and songs so great
There, he rides, you can see
The gates must open, now!

Spurs of gold ring loud in the yard
Trembling the land and fields
As from his horse he springs

A wreath of green is on his head
He sits at the table's end
The first cup of ale in hand
Blessing this Earth he drinks it

On the tops of the highest hills
The fires of Jāņi burn all night
Till dawn so dear will bring us light
And the Sun will give us lasting sight

The day of Jāņi blessed is
As no other day can be
On the day of Jāņi, the Son of God
The daughter of Sun did greet