Bitter Bread
And inactive this chocholy dance of infirmity
Powerlessness of the Nation with the curse of betrayal
♪ erstwhile we're bloodied ♪
In us there is inactive the inability of disasters and destruction
It's a lie with a shadow on you
And it stinks like a carcass thrown under the threshold.
My country is suffocating in my country
Once again a traitor hangs on your legs
Still this infirmity of a wicked conscience
Like gangrene eats us without mercy
And we inactive endure the powerless and the weak
For the deficiency of honor...the pride...and dignity...!
A traitor at the tallness of a sick democracy
He mocks Polishness and the freedom of the Spirit
Red bastard insults Poles
Today's anti-Polish commie narrative
A liar makes terms public.
Bitter for us and ungrateful bread
Because we remember that man of honor
As shortly as he lost him, he shot himself in the head!
