Spit in the face
Chaos, quarrel and disgrace
Battle with little chance
Patriots, traitors, conspirators
In the bleeding land
Of the grey and the
Ancient lakes and fields
Between the two dragons
Wild cavalry charge of
Romantic Utopians
Straight into
The flames
Her cold forests bred
A tribe of restless spirits
Who can break the steel
Or seize fortresses
Dug deep into the rocks
Whenever told
“It’s impossible.”
You can see her blossom
When she’s raped
Feel the glow of freedom
When she rises from the dead
Her churches filled with priests
Who’d sooner take a bullet
To turn into a myth
Rather than a coffin’s filth
Willows here speak of
Chopin’s weep
And dance waltz
With a drunkard’s song
But all her diamonds
Got trampled and crushed
In the evil tempest of
The Black Cross and the Red Star
Her cities rebuilt
In the places
Where the ivy of envy
And self-hate laugh
BUT
I would die for her
Give away all my riches
In return for
Just spit in the face
And a nameless grave
24.11.2014,
Bialystok city, Poland
