ONWARD!

Born out of stormy times we have awoken,

and step by step in storm clouds go to meet

proudly our lofty goal, our backs unbroken,

unbowed, except compatriots to greet.

We knew what strife to cross our path was waiting;

although the thunder roared, as frost gnawed bone –

such ancient Czech refrains, and unabating,

are music to stride forward to – go on!

Forth with our nation, which so pure, clear gazing,

is as if from God’s hands set forth, and blessed;

to this day in its breast that ideal blazing,

for which, in times gone by, it was oppressed!

For human freedom – which in us once flourished! –

stand Czechs today, as each has ever done:

that very thought, which grave-ward had us banished,

shall lift us up to glory – onward, on!

Onward! New times behove new actions. Morning

has risen for new toil, fresh day returned,

the glory of the fathers, sons adorning –

if accolades you seek, let yours be earned!

Where present day is like a child now pining,

for glory past, its every precious stone,

albeit the wake behind the ship lies shining –

pull taut the rigging – raise the sail – go on!

Enough of sighs, be still, ye lips objecting

to the times far from bright ahead, in shroud!

Does not the rose its petals spread, prospecting

for the sun, past the interloping cloud?

Away with dozing at the helm, steer steady:

bystanders shall be left behind, soon gone,

no day comes twice-reborn around, be ready,

there’s one right time to act – go on, go on!

Like unto others, the sun’s beams are sent us,

for us, just as for them, night turns to day,

we are like other sons of times momentous –

heed the call, let the true men lead the way!

Come here, come here, our visitor, loved dearly,

to make our sombre dance a merry one,

you, golden hope, you jolly boldness, cheery,

carry our flag, with glee we will go on!

What providence may bring our way we’re guessing –

yet the god of Czech battles still has zest,

and for our victories both great and pressing

our homeland field is broad, to well attest!

And if God wills that we should face new battles –

we’ll sing the Hussite chorale on till won,

there’s iron ore, to forge fine swords for chattels,

and iron in the blood – go on, go on!

Oh let us keep our eye on our ship’s bearing,

we are its deck planks, tined and tied within,

and with all fervour we will bond together,

once more the Czech Land’s fortunes to begin!

Though a Czech might achieve all things desired,

and in his wildest dreams all wished upon  –

this human sea gives no respite, though tired,

don’t look for rest, keep ever on, inspired,

onward, beloved Nation, ever on!