Reflection for June 7, 2017

Where has he gone7June2017
My dearest son?
Perhaps during the uprising
The cruel enemy killed him

Ah, you bad people
In the name of God, the most holy
Tell me, why did you kill
My son?

Never again
Will I have his support
Even if I cry
My old eyes out

Were my bitter tears
To create another River Oder
They would not restore to life
My son

He lies in his grave
And I know not where
Though I keep asking people

Perhaps my poor child
Lies in a rough ditch
And instead he could have been
Lying in his warm bed

Oh, sing for him
God’s little song-birds
Since his mother
Cannot find him

And you God’s little flowers
May you bloom all around
So that my son
May sleep happily

Folk song in the dialect of the Opole region, Poland

This entry was posted in Julian Cell Blog. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply