Thalatta! Thalatta!
All hail to thee, thou eternal sea!
All hail to thee ten thousand times
               From my jubilant heart,
            As once thou wast hailed
By ten thousand Grecian hearts.
   Misfortune-combating, homeward-yearning,
            World-renowned Grecian hearts.

            The waters heaved,
            They heaved and roared.
         The sun poured streaming downward
            Its flickering rosy lights.
The startled flocks of sea-mews
Fluttered away with shrill screams;
   The coursers stamped, the shields rattled,
      And far out, resounded like a triumphal pæan,
            Thalatta! Thalatta!

   All hail to thee, thou Eternal Sea!
Like the language of home, thy water whispers to me.
Like the dreams of my childhood I see it glimmer
   Over thy billowy realm of waves.
   And it repeats to me anew olden memories,
   Of all the belovèd glorious sports,
      Of all the twinkling Christmas gifts,
         Of all the ruddy coral-trees,
Tiny golden fishes, pearls and bright-hued mussels,
      Which thou dost secretly preserve
Below there in thy limpid house of crystal.

         Oh, how I have pined in barren exile!
               Like a withered flower
               In the tin box of a botanist,
               My heart lay in my breast.
            I feel as if all winter I had sat,
            A sick man, in a dark, sick room,
               Which now I suddenly leave.
         And dazzingly shines down upon me
   The emerald spring, the sunshine-awakened spring,
         And the white-blossomed trees are rustling;
            And the young flowers look at me,
            With their many-colored, fragrant eyes.
And there is an aroma, and a murmuring, and a breathing and a laughter
      And in the blue sky the little birds are singing,
               Thalatta! Thalatta!

               Thou valiant, retreating heart,
               How oft, how bitter oft
Did the fair barbarians of the North press thee hard!
               From their large victorious eyes
               They darted burning shafts,
         With crooked, polished words,
   They threatened to cleave my breast.
With sharp-pointed missives they shattered
         My poor, stunned brain.
In vain I held up against them my shield,
The arrows whizzed, the strokes cracked,
And from the fair barbarians of the North
         I was pressed even unto the sea.
And now with deep, free breath, I hail the sea,
         The dear, redeeming sea --
         Thalatta! Thalatta!