Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/3/2019
And spring will come and it will open the buds,
but in my eyes it shall never die
the boundless white field...
And summer will come and ears of grain
shall ring. But in my eyes still, bright as day,
boundless white field...
And life will pass and death will cloud,
but in the coffin I'll open my eyes
into the boundless white field...
And midnight will come and I will rise from the grave
and I'll direct my pensive steps
to the boundless white field...
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 7:25 AM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/3/2019
And spring will come and it will open the buds,
but in my eyes it shall never die
the boundless white field...
And summer will come and ears of grain
shall ring. But in my eyes still, bright as day,
boundless white field...
And life will pass and death will cloud,
but in the coffin I'll open my eyes
into the boundless white field...
And midnight will come and I will rise from the grave
and I'll direct my pensive steps
to the boundless white field...
Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)