A Prayer

 

For our torn soil,

For the bloody dying of the river Wisła,

For the Tatra mountains, for the waves of the Baltic sea,

For Warsaw’s death in September;

 

For the grave that will soothe the agony,

The grave that lures us when our strength abates –

- Lord, rescue women and children

From the fire and the flames in Hamburg.

 

For the cross that lies desacralised on the ground

For the misfortune that comes from the ashes of the cemetery -

- preserve the pointed gothic domes

In our enemy’s capital, we pray.

 

O Lord, by your sign on top of the church steeples,

By the wood of your suffering and of your glory,

We pray to you, mumbling the rosary,

We plead you, roaring chorals in the churches.

 

When we triumph over defeat,

When your angry look chokes us,

Then give us strength – let us endure victory

And tear out the hate from our soul.

 

When in the flashes covering our coffins

The dam, the last bastion then crumbles,

Then let our hearts rescue from the ruins

Your holy and eternal testament.

 

Warsaw 1943

 

Leonia Jabłonkówna

 

 

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