Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 1/10/2019
Oh, how I miss the cornflowers and poppies,
lowlands, sands and dwarf pines,
rye bread and country girls
with the simplest of simple tastes.
I dream of such upbringing to later be able
to respect others without rejecting anyone,
and to always let them pull their cart of good fortune and misery,
being able to see not only our own right.
I'd like to believe that a neighbor always wishes you well,
that there's no between between the fields,
in order not to stain life with lies,
and that it is possible to never yell at anyone.
I miss the forest leaning in the wind,
the marigolds - children of wet meadows,
and those hard men who'd always stand up and fight
even without the chance of winning.
I miss shutters with a heart in the middle,
But most of all - white clouds.
Wieslaw Musialowski 12/4/2018
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.