A Nazi lie and Hitler’s plot? —
The forest sighs but gives no answers.
Twelve thousand Polish officers rot,
grandsons of Sobieski’s lancers,
reactionary anti-Semites,
too dead to reach for thoughts or guns,
or, in the fragrant dark of spring nights,
to father patriotic sons.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem