Poplar and Wind

Written by: Patrycjusz Kopec

The smell of led was in the air
In the quiet forest bullet that silence would dispel 
That bullet young partisans’ heart would tear 
And the boy like stone would fell

All was left was a shallow grave
And small cross given to the one who was brave
Above the grave tall poplar would sway like an ocean wave
The salute was not given because guerrillas their bullets had to save

The destiny has many turns
There are many earthly concerns
But in subtle leaves of poplar tree wind makes sound like heart that for lover yearns
Only it can respond to other sides’ concerns as well as soul’s current sojourns

Wind is beyond time but blood is like wine 
No matter if blood is spilled by men or force of divine
Is the wind reflection of the force angelically sublime?
Or maybe soul has its own poplar its own wind and its own one having no reference to ours’ time