Thousands of grave-stones,
Millions of wondering souls.
They whisper horror stories,
Into my fragile ear holes.
Tales of rupture, and of disgrace
Tales of warriors and tales of slaves
Damned land, of blood and massacre death
In which bones of our ancestors lays deep beneath.
Will we forget them, those we never had known?
Won't we regret if all that will go?
No! Their memories will live
As long as we will stand strong.
Yes! Their death we will avenge,
By keeping their past as vivid as our new days.
<<Inspired by my friends stories of their visit to Poland
and my flashbacks>> |
