Polish Poetry



The Archangel Gabriel flies very' lightly,
Knocks at the tower's silent bells,
With wings touches the dome of the street lights,
And kisses the forest which snoozes in the valley
So that it rustles with morning prayers.

Daybreak looks to the windows and runs
To open places for the sun.
The flowerbed from the greens blooms like roses,
The cross with flame jets to heaven
By thanksgiving prayers
Of those who raise the church for the Queen of Peace.

And the sons of Assist come to the throne of Mary,
Conducting the pilgrims
Who carry the vows of their great-grandfathers,
But Martial Law closes the gates.
The last Preface the priest sang with tears,
The Polish people knelt under the closed gate,
And with bloody clenched fists called out,
"To Mother, let us go - To Mother!"
But the obedient guard upheld the order
Until God tore the seal!

The Archangel in the morning raises the baton,
The chords of the bells sound,
People from every place are coming,
The deaf clock APPOINTS AGAIN -

Maria Zientara-Malewska



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