Hungarian Culture Day

To us, hungarians, the 22th of January is a very important and special day. This day we celebrate our unique anthem. You know, so many years ago in 1823, on this day Kölcsey Ferenc, or Francis Kolcsey in english, just finished his own anthem what he wrote for a contest. Now this is our original and also sad anthem. Through this poem hungarians ask God to bring them more successful and cheerful years. Because our kind was sometimes unwittingly bad. However we didn't wanted to be bad. Other bad and evil people made us slaves so many times.

Now this is the english version of our anthem: (please forgive me if you think it is too long, I needed to take the whole anthem from Wikipedia to here)

God, bless the nation of Hungary
With your grace and bounty
Extend over it your guarding arm
During strife with its enemies
Long torn by ill fate
Bring upon it a time of relief
This nation has suffered for all sins
Of the past and of the future!

You brought our ancestors up
Over the Carpathians' holy peaks
By you was won a beautiful homeland
For Bendeguz's sons
And wherever flow the rivers of
This Tisza and the Danube
Árpád, our hero's descendants
Will root and bloom.

For us on the plains of the Kuns
You ripened the wheat
In the grape fields of Tokaj
You dripped sweet nectar
Our flag you often planted
On the wild Turk['s earthworks
And under Mátyás' grave army whimpered
Vienna's "proud fort."

Ah, but for our sins
Anger gathered in Your bosom
And you struck with your lightning
From Your thundering clouds
Now the plundering Mongols' arrows
You swarmed over us
Then the Turks' slave yoke
We took upon our shoulders.

How often came from the mouths
Of Osman's barbarian nation
Over the corpses of our defeated army
A victory song!
How often did your own son agress
My homeland, upon your breast,
And you became because of your own sons
Your own sons' funeral urn!

The fugitive hid, and towards him
The sword reached into his cave
Looking everywhere he could not find
His home in his homeland
Climbs the mountain, descends the valley
Sadness and despair his companions
Sea of blood beneath his feet
Ocean of flame above.

Castle stood, now a heap of stones
Happiness and joy fluttered,
Groans of death, weeping
Now sound in their place.
And Ah! Freedom does not bloom
From the blood of the dead,
Torturous slavery's tears fall
From the burning eyes of the orphans!

Pity, Oh Lord, the Hungarians
Who are tossed by waves of danger
Extend over it your guarding arm
On the sea of its misery
Long torn by ill fate
Bring upon it a time of relief
They who have suffered for all sins
Of the past and of the future!

And just for the fun I give you the link of a picture what fits here: https://imgur.com/sMuFgAl