This Land... Poem by Maria Konopnicka

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 4/10/2022

... This land that I am to inherit
will be a silent grave.
The peace makers shall settle there...
This is how Lord vowed his vow.

There into a sleep full of light
the meek and the aggrieved shall fall,
and from their hearts the blue flax will sprout,
on the blades of rays.

And from their breast a bloody hawthorn will sprout,
bearing thorns of wrongs they'd suffered...
And this heritage, this silent land
the Lord shall give them - loyally.

And the night will come there across bright dew,
to sprinkle handfuls of seed stars,
and the glow of the moon, like a silver ear,
will lay on the fields.

And this heritage will continue to grow
in the morning and at night,
until to the suffering of the meek
the Lord shall say: 'Enough! '
And the land - will be no more!