Wakie, wakie, little Jakie,
For there’s bread to knead then to bakie.
Come on Jakie, come on Jakie,
There’s so much for us to makie!
Muffins, pies, cookies, and cakies!
The truth - it is not armed hand.
The truth - it is not the boot of iron,
compulsive stigma of force
and determined heads.
The truth it is not the screech of demons
and the sound of their lute.
It is not the brightness of foggy neons
and the wisdom of their quarrel.
The truth - it is the daily bread,
straight speech, straight calculations.
The truth - it is the light for oneness,
heart on the palm; ways, directions.
The truth - it is everyday people
and knowledge of things as they are.
The truth - it is the broken shackles,
not captives and not the serfs.
Prawda (Polish Version)
Prawda to nieuzbrojone ramie.
Prawda to nie but stalowy,
rozkielzanej sily znamie
i uciemiezone glowy.
Prawda to nie skrzek karlów i demonów
i dzwiek ich lutni.
To nie blask mglistych neonów
i madrosc ich klótni.
Prawda to chleb powszedni,
mowa prosta, proste rachunki.
Prawda to swiatlo dla jedni,
na dloni serce, drogi, kierunki.
Prawda to ludzie codzienni,
znajomosc rzeczy takimi jakie sa.
Prawda to rozerwane kajdany,
nie zniewoleni i nie poddani.
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