• Язык:
    Польский (Polska)



Za bezpańskim, zniszczonym barakiem,
Tam, gdzie ostał się płot przekrzywiony,
Stary gawron, z obdartym żebrakiem,
O zachwytach, prowadził rozmowy.

Przyjaciele, od lat byli szczerzy,
Gawron mówił i drżał ze wzruszenia,
Że gdy spał, pośród ruin, na wieży,
Niebywałe zobaczył widzenia.

W locie bardzo wysokim i śmiałym,
Nie pamiętał o smutkach ich bytu
I łabędziem był, dumnym i białym,
Żebrak księciem zaś, godnym zachwytu.

Żebrak płakał bezsilnie i głucho,
Ciężka noc się na ziemię spuszczała,
Przechodząca w pobliżu starucha,
Bojaźliwie i szybko żegnała.

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May be, in my previous a-being, / I’ve cut the throats of my Mom and Dad, / If in this one - Lord of all the living! - / I have been doomed to suffering like that. / / If I call for dogs of mine, aloud, / Or just try my own horse to see, / Not obeying all my signs and shout...


I know her, her bitter silence, / Her tiredness of her words and cries, / Lives in the secret changing brightness / Of widened pupils of her eyes. / / Her heart is opened with craving / Only to music of the verse, / Before the life of joy and playing, / She stands aloof and won&rsq...

The Sixth Sense

Fine is the wine that is in love with us, / The goodly bread we wait for from the oven, / And woman whom we have possessed, at last, / After we've suffered under yoke her own. / / But what to do if a red sunset freezes / Above a sky that's drowning in cold, / Where there is silence an...


I’m sick, for sure: deep darkness holds my heart, / I’m bored with the people and the stories, / And dream of treasures of the kingdoms, glories, / And yataghans, all covered with blood. / / It seems to me - and this is no fraud - / A Tartar, squint, was one of my begetters,...

To the People Of the Future

This single link was else respected / By people of the days that gone - / There’s written on its tablet sacred / That Love and Life is one. / But you’re not they, you live like arrows / Of dreams that fly through skies and earth, / And in your flight, unite, my fellows, ...

To the People Of the Present

Why we don't make them distinguished - / Our thoughts - with heart's vibration, / Fill the air with cry and skirmish, / Dreams and lies in combination. / / Just for that, that, fully useless, / Lost of joy and lost of sadness, / To draw spirals of the losers, / Between even Time and...