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Old Patriot

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 5/27/2019 Tomorrow, as usual, you shall get up before dawn with a crack in your bones, an ointment for corns, worn-out slippers you will put on your feet left right, left right, let's go, Legionnaires! Through attic open vent, sitting on the stool, you'll blow your chipped pipe, as the commander of your regiment you will tap a spoon on the beaten-up lid then through the gate between the stumps you will lisp the troops into two lines of given out wooden soldiers and you'll hide candy under the pillow when you get out from under the floor felt shako, a crop and clinking spurs, you will shine officer's boots with grease and long tress of horsehair cut from a chestnut's mane and, for the trip, crumpled letter of safe passage then you will almost be ready, you will kiss the crucifix on the wall and whispering your customary "Lead, Lord", you'll hobble unknowingly to the window (unintentional stop in your travel) and you will open it wide so that the the morning can sober you up with fresh breeze. Wieslaw Musialowski 1/1/2004

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019




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