Life's journey is hard for everyone,
but always try, as best as you can,
that it'd be a white-sailed ship
that will be awaiting you when
your odyssey comes to an end.
Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/25/2020
Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 12/2/2019
I miss these people: simple and direct,
the green and blue open gate of the lowlands,
the majesty of generations, a real chamber,
conversations around the table, what's new in the village:
that Johnny is doing well, that he was lucky,
even though he has never been a top student in geography,
that Mary has a husband who loves and respects her,
for he knows that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover,
that a kind heart is a real treasure.
It should be taught at home from an early age
that there's a place above the door where Christ on a wooden cross
is waiting suffering, patient - he doesn't complain
that every day he has to see that it's not easy here
- everyone shall get as much as in the will
all deeds weigh on the scale, and the clock
counts the days and hours and works evenly:
sometimes he would like to slow down the heart of the machinery,
but the big hand is constantly urging the small one
oh, how can a whole comprise in one life,
can you excuse yourself, divide into smaller pieces?
- you need to be a human and to be cheerful in your life.
Wieslaw Musialowski 08/12/2017
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 3:28 AM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 7/16/2018
The sun bows low,
putting out the candlesticks of time,
it decorates white altars,
therefore winter is already close.
Wieslaw Musialowski 15/10/2001
Dec 2, 2019
Dec 2, 2019 at 3:21 AM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/29/2019
Even if your ship would be caught in the greatest of storms,
you'll stay in charge unafraid being the helmsman for your crew,
like a good father caring for his children, you shall not let them die.
If you fall - you will not swear,
because your fellowmen will lift you up,
for your heart for everyone and everywhere.
Remember - money is the king of the world,
and friends? - they'll find you in need,
but the small flame of a poor-quality candle
always quickly goes out.
For your birthday some will bring you roses,
have you seen this flower without thorns?
while others - dasies from an oak wood,
adorned with the most innocent dew.
You'll have to choose - love or affection,
and given moment you'd better not confuse
that sometimes it's worth to think about that
what in its essence a flower shall remain.
Wieslaw Musialowski 5/10/2003
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 11:39 AM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/9/2019
From boulder to boulder, I was standing on a fragile plank
that separates light from darkness, death from life,
over the huge explosion of the precipice foamed...
Below me, the roar and beating of the wings of a dark night.
Through the moist floor of the moss tapestries, the abyss
is growling and, like a hound, rattling with the chain...
At my feet its foams, its anger, its howling...
I trample them, I strike them with lightning bolts... I am just a shade.
From boulder to boulder, I've descended under the mad assault
of waters, ferociously rushing at me and at the the abyss,
stunned by the simultaneous firing of a hundred death's guns.
And suddenly I felt like a light bird feather,
carried far away from the quiet marina by the breeze,
and trembling, I covered my eyes... I was just daydreaming.
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 5:22 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/9/2019
Since you have flashed in my silent sky
with a flaming star flying into the abyss,
I know what life is and I know what is dying,
- because of you I live, because of you I die.
You are a poisonous flower from which I collect nectar,
You are a thunder and a storm from which I draw silence,
You are grind and discord with which to sleep I rock myself,
I live because of you, because of you I die.
My chest is getting cold, my heart is beating fast,
under your kisses and under your touch,
I die with delight, with passion I rise,
- because of you I live, and because of you I die.
On you, oh wave, I lean my head,
on you I put my wings, oh raging gale,
with you, destruction, I double my strength,
I live because of you, because of you I die.
Your caresses are bells at my funeral,
Your caresses are golden bowls of happiness,
You are the fire that puts out the flames...
you are the water that starts a blaze...
I live because of you, because of you I die! ...
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 5:20 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/6/2019
Don't hope for any light
Don't hope for any light in the midst of a storm,
neither on earth nor in the sky.
For whoever awaits it will certainly die
and he'll be a bell, ringing at his own funeral.
And only those won't be covered by the dark coat of night
who within themselves will find the light,
to clearly illuminate their path,
by kindling their own spiritual fire.
*by kindling their own fire of the spirit all alone.
A Toast
A fool would be the one who wants at sea depth
to quench the thirst that burns him from the inside,
who, clinging to the wide wave,
rises up with her and collapses into the abyss.
A fool! ... Life, the great cellarmaster,
is only going to give him a goblet full of bitterness.
Even without us, the seas flow into the abyss -
long live the wine!...
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
Nov 6, 2019
Nov 6, 2019 at 3:16 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/5/2019
...Smaller than small is my spirit
And bigger than big.
Everlasting motion puts no limits
between the droplets of the sea.
Caught up in ocean's run
living waves roll free...
And one drop, which hits the bank,
is also called the sea.
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 2:30 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/4/2019
It's evening, Lord! The forest birds
towards their nests lean their wings...
Minstrels of your fields
have stopped to sing their songs.
I've spent a whole long hard day at work
in tears, longing for home...
and you didn't have a single bright ray
from the lights of the morning and of the day, and of the sun.
My time slowly bends to an end,
the evening star, trembling in the sky,
already flashes among the shadows of the night.
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
______________
I am not happy with the last line. Original: "already flashes/twinkles/shines among the shadows.
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 1:16 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/3/2019
My homeland - dear land,
where for the first time I saw the sun
and where I came to know God;
Where my father, brothers and mother kind
taught me prayers in my maternal tongue.
My homeland - villages and cities,
planted from the times of Piasts among Lechic fields;
Rivers, forests, flowery leas and meadows,
where larks sing their sweet songs of hope.
My homeland - our forefathers' glory,
Chrobry's Notched Sword and Cecora Mace,
Knightly Spirit, noble and brave,
bitter defeats and victories great.
My homeland - quiet green fields
for centuries trampled by hostile armies,
burial mounds and sad graves
that have covered our freedom defenders.
My homeland - heroic spirit of the Polish people,
that by miracle lives amid hunger and cold;
- hope that always blooms in hearts,
with work for the fathers, and song for the young!
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 11:32 AM UTC