When the ocean darkens for its cold assault,
When it beats the dunes with stinging spray of salt,
When the rocks must face the spring tide's smashing reach,
When the ebbing tide slides hissing on the beach,
When the silent fog drifts like a faceless ghost,
When the raging wind tears down the ragged coast,
My land fights back â my stubborn land
When the North Sea stubbornly breaks at the high dunes
And white flakes of foam break apart on the tops
When the surly tide crashes at the black basalt
And the gray mist falls over the dike and dunes
When at low tide the beach is as desolate as a desert
And wet west winds howl with venom,
Then my country fights, my flat land
With the drizzle sifting down for days and days,
Draining vivid colors into chilly grays,
Where the mountains are but towering cathedrals,
And waterfalls drip meekly from its rueful gargoyles,
Where the moaning wind fills man with apprehension,
And makes him tremble feebly, longing for the sun,
My land must wait â my open land
With the sky so low it brings humbly,
With the sky so low it touches agony,
With the sky so gray it blurs destiny,
With the sky so gray it grows into the sea,
With the freezing wind slicing like a knife,
With the icy wind ripping open life,
My land backs down â my shallow land
When the low sky skims over the water
When the low sky teaches us humility
When the low sky there is gray as slate,
When the low sky is pale as clay,
When the north wind divides the plain into quarters
When the north wind steals our breath,
Then my land cracks â my flat land
When the rivers bring in water from the south,
When bouncing children laugh and sing and shout,
When the cobwebs glitter in the dew of spring
When the summer sun caresses everything,
When the lambs can roll and run in rustic peace,
When the winds play gently with the teasing grass,
My land sings out â my living land
Then my country rejoices - my plain land!

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