Czechoslovakia [antikvár]

No stage nor rostrum vaunts my name, No posters praise, no floodlights blind me. In common clothes, unknown to fame, Living like common folk you'll find meThe folk who built in bygone ages Castles and ramparts well-defended, Tombs for their heroes and their sages, Conduits, and cathedrais splendidThey marched in arms when war closed o'er them, Breasting like rocks the tide embattled, And drove their enemies before them, Till earth beneath them quaked and rattled;Then scarred and battered from their forays, Once more, like shift to shift succeeding, They hewedfresh stonefrom out the quarries For war-wracked cities torn and bleedingNo statue keeps in mind their story, No monument of bronzé exalted. With labouring palms, despising glory, Their own memóriái they vaulted:The vuooded hills commemorate them, The barricades their blood defended, White farms in greenfields celebrate them, Andearth like gardens nursed and tendedNo stage nor rostrum vaunts my name, No posters praise, no floodlights blind me. In common clothes, unknown to fame, Living like common folkyou'11 find meTet proudly in this face appears, Stares through my eyes unspent and tameless, The innumerable host, my peers, The power and glory of the nameless