Music was his passion
from his yearly years,
his voice, his weapon -
the signature of his life.
In his compositions
there is freedom for all Nations,
freedom for everyone,
in his astounding sounds.
In his uplifting melodies,
he can transfigure
the man for better being,
be it homeless man
or the corrupt ruler king
and so noble is his music
as Paderewski only could be
in the salvos of his tones.
Categories:
paderewski, life,
Form: Verse
The infant orphan, you grew up in foster homes,
but your Polish roots were strong.
You knew Paderewski and you made his sculpture
for which you won the prize at World’s Fair.
Ziolkowski - the story teller in stone.
In your sculpture, you made the Crazy Horse face
larger than ancient kings,
larger than Egyptian pyramid.
May our another compatriot,
saint John Paul II pray for your soul
and all Native American Nations,
calling their sons and daughters to sainthood.
Rest in peace my countryman.
We were living in another people's territories,
making them proud.
May they grant us permanent asylum.
Categories:
paderewski, memory,
Form: Verse