EXODUS FROM POLAND
Seweryn Goszczynski
tr. Joanna Schier
High in the sky the cranes were flying,
High they were flying, and while flying, were singing.
Through the fields and forests groups of fighters were walking,
Without song nor music, their thoughts were gloomy.
Their thoughts were gloomy, their faces-dirty.
“And where are you going, fighters?” the cranes asked.
“Your column is like funeral; though weapons are shining,
Weapons sounding, your eyes are full of tears.”
“Weapons sound you may hear, but we don’t feel like singing,
Since the Germans will take them from us still today.
Empty-handed, we will go away to foreign lands,
And will beg for our daily bread from strangers,
For bitter, dear bread, and for fatherland most dear,
We will beg with our fame and with our wounds.
You cranes who are flying to our country,
Please stop by on your way, to greet our families,
Take on your wings these soldiers’ tears
And bring them to our mothers, wives, and sisters:
Let mothers pray and let our wife’s cry.
So, God let us return there promptly.
The Vistula, full of blood, will quench your thirst,
The soil covered with bodies, will feed you.
Because we will not eat nor drink soon!
Not soon, and not all of us will return… –
Hey, birds, fly to Poland, and us – to foreign land,
To make her happy again forever.
This poem was written at the Prussian border, in 1831.
Seweryn Goszczynski took part in the attack on Belvedere on November 29, 1831, and was a soldier in the November Uprising. After its fall, he left with other fighters of the Uprising for emigration in Prussia.
WYJŚCIE Z POLSKI
Seweryn Goszczyński,
uczestnik Powstania Listopadowego
Wysoko pod niebem żurawie leciały,
Wysoko leciały, a lecąc śpiewały.
Polami, lasami wojacy szli w tłumach,
Bez pieśni, bez grania,w milczących szli dumach.
Ich dumy posępne, ich lica w kurzawie.
“A dokąd, wojacy? – pytają żurawie –
Wasz pochód jak pogrzeb, choć bronią błyskacie,
Choć broń wam przygrywa, wy w oczach łzy macie.
“Choć broń nam przygrywa, nam śpiewać niesporo,
Bo Niemcy dziś jeszcze, dziś ją nam zabiorą.
My z dłońmi gołymi pójdziemy w świat dalej
I chleba u obcych będziemy zebrali.
Gorzkiego, drogiego – droższej ojczyzny
Będziemy żebrali za sławę i blizny.
Żurawie, co w nasze lecicie krainy,
Zalećcie po drodze do naszej rodziny,
Na skrzydła, na szybkie, żołnierskie łzy weźcie
I matkom, i żonom, i siostrom je nieście:
Niech matki wymodlą, wypłaczą niech żony,
By Bóg dał nam rychło powrócić w te strony.
Napoi was Wisła, krwią naszą opita,
Nakarmi was rola trupami okryta.
Bo my tu nieprędko pić i jeść będziemy!
Nieprędko, nie wszyscy my tutaj wrócimy…
Hej, ptaki do Polski, a my w świat daleki,
Ażeby ją zrobić szczęśliwą na wieki.”
