Out
of town by the pole on the hill.
Let's
kneel there before a holy icon
And
piously say a prayer.
Your
dad is not coming and I wait for him
Each
morning and evening, in tears and fear.
Rivers
burst their banks, forests are full of wild animals
And
roads are full of brigands.
When
the children hear this, they run all together
Out
of town by the pole on the hill.
There
they kneel before the holy icon
And
they start the prayer.
They
kiss the ground, then: „In the Name of the Father
The
Son and the Holy Spirit.
Be
praised, Most Holy Trinity
Now
and forever, Amen.”
Then
„Our Father...” and „Hail Mary” and the Creed,
The
Ten Commandments and more
And
when they have finished the set prayers
They
take a book prom a pocket.
And
the litany to the Holy Virgin
The
eldest brother sings, and with him
„O
Holy Mother” all the children sing
„Protect,
protect our father”.
Creaking
wheels of carts suddenly are heard
Familiar
carts can be seen.
The
children jump, shout as loud as they can:
“It's
our dad, he is coming!”
The
merchant saw them, shed tears of happiness
Jumped
to the ground from his cart.
“How
are you all, what are news from home?
Did
you long for your dad?”
“Is
your mum well? Your auntie? Everybody else?
Here
are raisins in the basket.”
This
one is talking and that one is talking
Lots
of happiness and noise.
“Go”
the merchant commands his servants,
“I
will walk to the town with the children”
Suddenly
robbers appear all around.
There
is twelve of them.
They
have long beards, long and twisted whiskers
Wild
eyes, dirty garments.
Knives
behind their belts, a sword flashes by the side
A
huge mace held in a hand.
The
children cry, they cling to their father
They
hide under his mantle.
The
servants tremble, the masters face is pale
His
shaking hands he lifts to the robbers.
“Take
all the carts with all the goods with them
But
let us walk away.
Don't
make the little children orphans
Don't
make a young wife a widow.”
The
brigands don;'t listen, one leads away horses,
Another
shouts: “Where is the money!”
And
grabs the enormous mace,
Another
threatens the servants with a sword.
Suddenly
a senior brigand shouts “Stop it!”
And
drives away the gang.
He
lets go the father and children
and
says: “Go without fear”
The
merchant thanks, but the robber says:
“Don't
thank me, I tell you honestly.
I'd
be the first to crack your head with a mace
If
not for the children's prayers.”
“It
is because of the children I am letting you go
Thanks
to them you are alive and well.
You
can thank them for what has happened
And
I will tell you why.
“Long
ago we heard that a merchant will pass this way
So
I and my companions
Here
outside the town, by a pole on a hill
Were
sitting in an ambush.”
“Today
I came and looking through bushes
I
saw them praying to God.
I
heard them, at first it made me laugh
But
then my heart started trembling.”
“I
heard them and I remembered my own home
Suddenly
I dropped my mace.
I
also have a wife, and with my wife
There
is my little son.”
“O
merchant, go to the town, I will go to the woods.
You,
children, sometimes come to this hill
And
for my soul
Sometimes
say a prayer.”
Translated
by W.F.
Adam Mickiewicz
(pron. Adam Meetzkyevich) (1798-1855)
Born four years after Poland lost
its independence, conquered by Russia, Germany and Austria,
Mickiewicz is the leading poet that encouraged his countrymen to
struggle to regain it. In fact he considered himself to be a
Polish-speaking Lithuanian (the kingdom that usually is called Polish
was actually the United Kingdom of Poland and Lithuania). He was born
in a small town called Nowogrodek in what used to be Lithuania (now
it is Belarus), studied in Vilnius (today the capital of Lithuania),
travelled in Russia, emigrated to France, died in Turkey, he actually
has never been to Poland proper. In France he taught Slavonic
Literature at Sorbonne and was a member of Academie Francaise. In
Turkey he tried to organise a Polish legion that would fight against
Russia.
Throughout
the 19th
century many Polish poets wrote poems that would help to keep the
fighting spirit, so one day the independence might be regained.
Mickiewicz is the best known of those poets. Of course this was not
the only subject of his poetry. His best work, entitled “Pan
Tadeusz” is a masterpiece unique in the whole European literature.
It is a multi-plot novel written entirely in beautiful and majestic
verse. Set in a manor in rural Lithuania, it has a romantic plot as
well as a fast action plot, and a dark past of one of the main
characters being slowly discovered. Of course there is also a fight
between Russians and Poles, which in the book the Poles win.
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