Song XI (Continued) pg. 33

And on the altar of my patron [Saint]

I place fragrant herbs

            I, poor, do not have for you

            Silver or gold

But with prayers [your] orphan

            Gathers your grace

They marvel at themselves, are strangers

Even the richest

Boys court me

Although I don’t [even] look at them

            That I am pretty I always

Heard, already as a child

They say it for true

In the company of confidants

Let them desire something for themselves there, with [their] talk

Nothing will come of it

To the maidens of the world it’s an insult

When they don’t guard the crown

I don’t listen to any of them, I listened to the noise of the Wisła

[Anyone] who does not desire[1] as a best man, [who] approaches me as a seducer

---

[1] Or “desires me not”

Song [The] Xth (Continued) pg. 32

You were sweet and angelic

And loved me

Like a song, as if idyllic

Our days flowed

And through her I was without sin

Because I took on her angel-ness

Because I, with her eyes, with her smile

Took on piety itself

Song XI

In the field grow lovely flowers

They sow [their] fragrance all around

I myself am beyond the limits

A happy girl

            Here the sun flashed

            Here I live free

            On the [banks of the] blue Wisła

            What it is to see through it to the bottom

Early, when it is called courtly

I go[1] to the little church

---

[1] Or “walk”

Song [The] Xth pg. 31

Song [The] Xth

On the altar- beautiful, quiet

She holds [her] hands crossed

Through a dream she smiles at me

But already you are not sleeping[1]

No, not even that behind you

I walk, pale as death

That I hold mourning for you

That I carry [you] to the grave

You no longer smell the fragrance

Of the faded white roses

A kiss on your temples

No longer awakens you

This is your marriage bed

And I, on such a day

Am barely alive, O my rose

I will begin something here

Because from you [my] poor mother

Was born into the world

I would love you to the end

Even thus placed in the[2] coffin

---

[1] Or, “But you are no longer sleeping”

[2] Or “a”

A Verse- I Am A Polish Woman! (Continued) pg. 30

In the clang[1] Once there was glory in the clang of Polish swords

Fear, dynamic[2] and pale, fell on the enemy

And whoever humbly did our bidding

Could stand with a smile before the ancient courts

            And today! Today a sorrowful crown

Is not lacking us on the steps of the altar

Our people are amidst cinders, pale, without color[3]

Whose slavery has grown old[4] on their face

Women in sorrow shatter their lutes

Stride slowly, in gloomy mourning

And in cemeteries to sadly incline[5] their heads

They cry and sob at the homeland’s grave

Today, in shame, the son of the ancient knights

Already sated with pleasure, is slothful and dozes

And the enemy, scoffing, looks on and believes

That of Poland there hardly even[6] remains the name

But in spite of this, Oh dear homeland

The Polish woman will never stop loving you

And every day I send prayers to God

Have mercy, have mercy, give us freedom, Lord

---

[1] Crossed out in the original

[2] Literally “happening”

[3] Literally “ruddiness”

[4] The word translated as “has grown old” is usually a reflexive verb (used here as an ordinary verb)? Poetic license?

[5] Sic for “they sadly incline”?

[6] Literally “only”

A Verse- I Am A Polish Woman! pg. 29

A Verse- I Am A Polish Woman!

I am a Polish woman- and a Polish maiden[1]

As quiet and fresh as the morning’s dawn

[Who] motivates daring to [do] anything that is not horrible

And like the swallow is merry and bold

            And the love of a Polish woman- that is the pleasures of Heaven

            From which you will drink[2] until it dries up with death

            You have to conquer her heart slowly

            But when she loves, it’s with all [her] soul

I am a Polish woman- as if somehow proud of this

My sparkling eyes are simply Tatry[3]

My homeland’s summertime scenery is enchanting

On the great plains where there are a hundred colorful flowers

And grain fields with grain, wondrous heather attire

There is no other land on Earth more beautiful

Than my Poland, than my homeland

I am a Polish woman- Oh, in that one word

Is held the pride of the ancient past

And the glory that our ancestors won

            In the court of humanity- to fight for freedom

            To fight for freedom in the court of humanity 

---

[1] Or “virgin”

[2] The reflexive verb form translated as “you will drink” is based on a noun that means “a well”

[3] The Tatry Mountains form the border between southeastern Poland and Slovakia

My Credo! pg. 28

My Credo

Before that youth of ours, that gold, passes

And autumn arises in the depths of [our] hearts

Then happiness[1] pales- and perishes

Before the dawning of that bright morning light vanishes

Destined for the waves, we sail down into the mist

Wrapped in the charm of poetry and glory

May our world water us with purest harmony

Before our spell gives us its dregs

Oh, we delude ourselves, delude- Oh, we dream without end

            Our enchanting springtime dream

Oh, we sail to the land of dreams, towards the light, to the sun

Above the grey world we make contact with this one

To stretch out to us[2] hands[3] to the beautiful, to happiness[4]

And to drink a drop of nectar

Before autumn wraps us in cold, tearful fog

And to dream- and to love- and to live

A Souvenir

You are far away and I am- I wander [through] the day- having conquered[5] my gaze

Yours, psalter-like, then poured itself out familiar thoughts

---

[1] Or “good fortune”

[2] Sic for “our”?

[3] Literally “palms”

[4] Or “good fortune”

[5] The words translated as “having conquered” and “poured out” are spelled more like Czech than Polish. The ending of the word translated as “having conquered” is also more Czech than Polish. The word translated as “I am” is similarly more Czech than Polish.

As A Memory pg. 27

As A Memory

May every moment be for you

Like the golden butterflies

Flow among aromas and roses

And the shadows and thorns[1]

That you find along the way

May [your] guardian angel remove for you

            I would like[2] to fly far, far

            [To] where the weeping silver roses flow from the banks

            When the rustling[3] feathers overwhelm the trees

            Where are you, happiness[4]? In dreams!

I would like[5] to fly far, far

[To] where I fantasize like [when] they tell a wild tale

Where are you, happiness[6]? In longing!

            I would like[7] to fly and never return again

            The heart beats so hotly[8] only once

            And then, silence, everything sleeps

            Where are you, happiness[9]? In the grave!

                                    Almengrenow[10]

---

[1] Literally “Hawthorne”

[2] Female verb form

[3] Literally noisy

[4] Or “good fortune”

[5] Female verb form

[6] Or “good fortune”

[7] Female verb form

[8] Literally “more hotly”

[9] Or “good fortune”

[10] Possibly “Amengrenow” a last name only