After The Storm Poem by Maria Konopnicka

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/29/2019

Oh, Lord! You give rainbow to the worlds after the storm,
you rise weak heads of bent flowers,
you spread wings of birds and the last cloud
you decorate with purple of the bright sun...

*

By tomorrow, all night terrors will be gone:
someone will support suffering apple tree,
someone - rafters on the thatched roof.
And before the early sun emerges in the east,
happy villagers will forget about the storm.

*

Lord! Eternal quarrels of the forces of nature
you wipe off the face of the earth with right hand of your grace,
and you leave no trace of defeat or worry
in the transparent spheres of silence,
where your heavenly Father's throne shines in glory.

*

But why, oh why, in human breast, with thunder shattered,
instead of silence and rainbow of bright ring,
you let them to rumble hollowly, in secrecy,
- echoes of a spiritual storms, poisonous memories?

Maria Konopnicka 3/24/1888