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France Preseren - A Toast
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The vintage, friends, is over, 
And here sweet wine makes, once again, 
Sad eyes and hearts recover, 
Puts fire in every vein, 
Drowns dull care 
Everywhere 
And summons hope out of despair. 

To whom with acclamation 
And song shall we our first toast give? 
God save our land and nation 
And all Slovenes where`er they live, 
Who own the same 
Blood and name, 
And who one glorious Mother claim.

Let thunder out of heaven 
Strike down and smite our wanton foe! 
Now, as it once had thriven, 
May our dear realm in freedom grow. 
Let fall the last 
Chains of the past 
Which bind us still and hold us fast!

Let peace, glad conciliation, 
Come back to us throughout the land! 
Towards their destination 
Let Slavs henceforth go hand-in-hand! 
Thus again 
Will honour reign 
To justice pledged in our domain.

To you, our pride past measure, 
Our girls! Your beauty, charm and grace! 
here surely is no treasure 
To equal maidens of such race. 
Sons you`ll bear, 
Who will dare 
Defy our foe no matter where.

Our hope now, our to-morrow - 
Our youth - we toast and toast with joy. 
No poisonous blight or sorrow 
Your love of homeland shall destroy. 
With us indeed 
You`re called to heed 
Its summons in this hour of need.

God`s blessing on all nations, 
Who long and work for that bright day, 
When o`er earth`s habitations 
No war, no strife shall hold its sway; 
Who long to see 
That all men free 
No more shall foes, but neighbours be.

At last to our reunion - 
To us the toast! Let it resound, 
Since in this gay communion 
By thoughts of brotherhood we`re bound.
May joyful cheer
Ne`er disappear 
From all good hearts now gathered here.
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