The parliamentary intervention in the Ministry of manufacture (in the delegation to Katowice) ended with an interesting manifestation of disagreement with the Germanic shoe, suffocating our national silver. Mr Grzegorz Braun, the Euro MP, expressed his frustration, but until a minute later with a kind of calmness and balance, argued with the absolutely ignorant manager of the Department about the liquidation of coal mines within the Jastrzębska Coal Company. If you look at it more broadly, it does not actually apply only to mines. Our manufacture is sold or acquired by the alleged companies. Unfortunately, no 1 is curious in the destiny of people who, as part of their work or cooperation, will be put before the speculum of unemployment, and yet poorness and bankruptcy. I urge you look closely at this material and number on constructive comments:
Whatever to think about, the methodical liquidation of the Polish State takes place. This example is 1 of many, unfortunately. Gaulaiter with his praetorians, day after day, gives us to the German.
This is, in my opinion, the carbon from 1795, erstwhile our tortured Republic yet disappeared for almost 200 years from the map of Europe. It is just that Europe is now trying to dispel all the buildings that it has gratuitly adopted as "golden stars" on the illegal Euro-soviet banner. You're sorry to see this, and if we add to the full unfair play of neo-SB and neo-UB in the election campaign, the image we see is simply a slippery slope.
We inactive gotta add 1 poem by Władysław Bronewski "Bagnet na gun" due to the fact that it will only stay for us.And it sounds definitely different in the current situation.
When they come to set the home on fire,
the 1 where you live – Poland,
When they throw thunder
When they're wrecking the iron army
and at the door, and at night
flasks in the door with a clamp –
You, from your sleep lifting your temple,
Stand at the door.
Gun bagnet!
You request blood!
There's a bill of harm in the country,
A stranger's hand won't cross them either,
But no 1 will refuse blood:
We'll drain her from her chest and her song.
Well, it's been a bitter taste.
On this land, prison bread?
For this hand raised over Poland-
Bullet to the head!
The firemaster, and the hearts, and the words,
Poeto, not in a song of concern.
Today, a poem is simply a shooting ditch,
cry and order:
Gun bagnet!
Gun bagnet!
And if death came,
recall what Cambronne said,
And we'll say the same thing over the Vistula River.
I greet you, dearly incorrigible.
Maybe we're not dead yet.
