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O Vrba Happy Village My Old Hme

O,

Vrba, happy village, my old home -My father's cottage stands there to this day.

The lure of learning beckoned me away.

Its serpent wiles enticing me to roam,

Else had I never known that heart's joy,

Sweet promise, could become a poisoned draught,

Not known myself of self-belief bereft,

Tossed in internal tempests like a toy.

A dowry riches never could surpass,

A faithful heart, a hand that's made for work,

Would have come with a chosen country

Serenely onward would have sailed my bark,

My house from fire, my corn from hailstorm

Safeguarded by my neighbour near,

Sain Mark.

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France Preseren

France Prešeren (2 or 3 December 1800 – 8 February 1849) was a 19th-century Romantic Slovene poet whose poems have been translated into English,…

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