They were truly steadfast...
Though victorious... Undefeated!
His heroism on the pages of history
They signed up with gold...
When the white-red flag,
At the Brandenburg Gate, she was a mess.
And the last shot to the enemy,
He's quiet on the streets of Berlin,
When the war came to an end
And the postwar planet was reshaping,
And the iron curtain was falling over Europe,
The old continent is half divided,
Though the alarm sirens have stopped,
They stopped dropping bombs on cities,
Expansive Polish forests,
It remained full of partisans young,
Though in the shadow of Yalta's betrayal,
The planet turned its back on them,
They are devoted to their ideals,
The soldier's oath remained faithful,
And left to themselves,
Betrayed by the Western Allies,
They didn't lay down their weapons,
They didn't hide their uniforms...
When they swore by the flag,
Their hearts were filled with courage,
The soul was not afraid,
The hard ones were willing to endure sacrifices,
When they held their rifles,
They were ready to spare no effort,
In many desperate battles,
A fresh occupier to face...
They were truly steadfast...
Though betrayed... Faithful people!
In their loved ones and relatives of memory,
Over the years, they have remained untarnished...
When a long terrible communism night,
A war-torn country,
To the hopes of Poles painfully hitting,
Drowned by years of dreams,
In the summertime they walked through the forest ravines,
On the road lit by a silvery moon,
In winter, they'd break through the snows.
Lighting the way with hot torches,
A hated russian occupier
In many skirmishes, inflicting casualties,
Any communists crossing plans,
Breaking up prisons and Ubek detention...
Though fear looked into their eyes,
Sowed in the hearts of thousands of fear grains,
And erstwhile the eyelids fell asleep,
Their dreams were full of anxiety,
Soviet repression did not fear,
By putting a dam on communism,
At the station, they continued faithfully,
By planning another ambush...
Without respect for the partisan life of hardship,
Hunger, cold and common diseases,
In dense rains uniform soaked,
A molded bread bite last,
To liberate the homeland from the russian yoke,
By offering their countrymen the gift of freedom,
And in their stead they remained firm,
They didn't turn back from their path...
They were truly steadfast...
In spite of common sovietization,
Ruging from all over religion,
They remained steadfastly faithful to God!
On old yellow pages,
Modest anti-communist flyers,
Written with an old pen,
And then they were armed,
A weapon held in his hand,
In hard times, he encouraged them,
When inexorably the ringing of the Ubek manhunt,
He was clenching around a vast forest,
And erstwhile they escaped the chase,
Kissing his metallic gutters,
Many common prayers,
For saving God, they thanked...
And in the shade of the scattered trees,
Cursed by the tired guerrillas,
Moving the beads,
For free Poland they whispered,
To the fallen soul mates,
Stealing to rub the tear,
They prayed hot and bloody,
By believing in their care...
When a devoted country chaplain,
Above the bowed head of the guerrilla,
With devotion he drew the sign of the Cross,
In the name of God, He forgave sins,
Since then, each of them,
He was ready to die,
By believing in the meaning of the victim,
For future generations of freedom...
They were truly steadfast...
We'll remember them!
Their patriotism is sincere and self-sacrifice,
In the future, we will tell our grandchildren...
Though the communist authorities cursed,
To forget and despise the doomed,
By patriots with righteous hearts,
In all of Poland today,
In all parts of Poland,
In distant villages and bustling cities,
The memorials dedicated to them,
We can number hundreds today...
Though present they are being slandered,
In the streams of loud media lies,
And in pseudohistoric studies,
A disgraceful crime to attribute to them,
In spite of harmful trends,
In our minds and hearts,
Noble knights from the cards of colorful novels,
Similar are the heroic soldiers cursed,
Today they're not forgotten,
In the consciousness of modern patriots,
They yet took their place,
And no 1 will cast them out of our hearts!
Today, the sparked race,
Opened white-red flags,
The candles flashing in front of all monument,
The lowly ones are a tribute...
Also modest this poem
And from the request of my heart,
On a day dedicated to them
To the steadfast Soldiers of the Cursed!
- I'm sorry. A poem published on 1 March on National Day of Memory of the Cursed Soldiers.
