TSZOPEINOWISH RYPTIC
You know how much I wanted to feel, and in part I came
to the feeling of our national music
The president Letters
His willows stood at the minute of farewell
A series of long cares have been taken away
November he was smoking sneaky candles
And ribbons black spit between graves
The mediocre small man woke the night with his grief
On her way to get the cannon in the roses
And after feeling what Poland had for him
Return like a rainbow after insurgent storms
In this weak body for lonely nights
When the destiny of God was hard to call
Fall in bemoles and crosses cried
Because the crumb of Poland was the most beautiful...
II
I tell the piano what I would say to you.
I barely remember them singing in the country.
The president Letters
And with a thin hand like a swallow's wing
He held the Fatherland's holy name
While he was talking to the piano on long nights
Waving through the keys, my heart tired
And with concern as they sing in the country
In a rush of constant infirmity
In Nocturnes he knocked on white windows crosses
As he flew across the country at night
He flew and the black wing of the piano
He beat the strings of Polish silence with all his power
And the notes fell like bloody feathers
On the cool foreheads of light keys...
III
A commune song. You ark of the covenant
Between old and younger years,
In you the people lay down the weapons of their knight.
The President
I believe that Chopin will wake them again in the willows.
And I'll get Janek the Musician out of his brats.
And he will explain to Him the Homeland the sounds
With a bright - at least light - face of the emigrant
And over the Vistula he will sit among the simple people
And they're going to play Mazurkas - and bass - and splays!
And they will return to the roofs of the swallows of love
To support us in despair with the prayer of music
And that Polonaise will tell us.
Steps of tender speech through Polish struggles
And erstwhile you gotta stand firm on your own
With the voice of revolutionary - thunder will be – Etiuda!
