Wojciech Miotke: Bitter Regrets

In what Sheol they want to trap the Polish soul

Should our name be erased?

Where then shall the mazurkas last eternal whispers

What in the willows of weeping death have grown a wound

Maybe it was all just an exaggeration.

Who gave us the power to sing in carols

W The cities of the wretched household born in history

We broke our ears against the evidence at the offices.

Such a cut meets most blasphemers

Those who have confessed to God

A kiss made us Anglo-Saxon flatterers

Outside of the city dragged into the East of Golgota

We inactive have the scarlet to prepare the royal scepter

The EU's power of contempt failed to see this

A Nation Reissued to the Leaders of Curse

May God's hand defend us from destruction

Wojciech Miotke