The land where I was born and reared on lullabies and loving care,
Where I with youthful hand and heart flung flashing arrows in the air,
Where now my parents’ bones repose, is my dear motherland so fair.
Not for all the trees in Eden would I these rugged cliffs exchange,
Nor for paradise undreamed of would I my native land exchange!
I love the mounts that rear their heads adorned with never-melting snow,
The crags where eagles dare not perch, where mighty torrents deafening flow,
And there to banquet on deer’s flesh as did my fathers long ago.
Not for all the trees in Eden would I these rugged cliffs exchange,
Nor for paradise undreamed of would I my native land exchange!
Though beautiful are flowery vales where silver brooklets winding sigh,
Yet towards Khevsuri’s rocky mounts my heart and soul with yearning fly,
Life in the valleys I’d renounce for death midst native mountains high.
Not for all the trees in Eden would I these rugged cliffs exchange,
Nor for paradise undreamed of would I my native land exchange!
I never longed for wealth or fame that fortune lavishly can pour,
Nor dreamed of golden palaces with warriors and slaves galore;
My wish is but to live and die for the highlands I adore!
Not for all the trees in Eden would I these rugged cliffs exchange,
Nor for paradise undreamed of would I my native land exchange!
Can anything be dearer, sweeter than my mother’s smile or hand,
Or gem as precious as the rocks and mountains of my native strand?
The lives of men are swayed by love for one God and one ‘motherland.
Not for all the trees in Eden would I these rugged cliffs exchange
Nor for paradise undreamed of would I my native land exchange!
