CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
Poland was coming there, kneel,
pits covered with holy prayer,
bitter tears over the grave jęknąć,
at the forefront of my President.
was not the sun shine
the path of memory to run.
death mist arose early dawn,
to betray our ideals.
rupture the Katyn graves,
its doors to eager victims.
black mist Polish plains, barbaric,
Again came the day for us none.
again without trial kat worked
and without mercy They killed instantly.
Who is my beloved Polish
into a deadly trap lured you?
"My God, my God ..."-someone there had spoken,
but shot treason is life interrupted.
exchanged the words of eternal silence,
torn ominous sirens howling.
Without worship due somewhere in the rag,
President made flesh.
It lay so in Smolensk mud
squirt when squeezed bandit.
country is covered with a pall,
but still hope still alive.
Poland though bloody, is not killed.
As always there is freedom greedy.
So woe to you zaprzańcy despicable,
crime authors in the offices.
the end day I was praying,
and for you to remember the cat.
you need to know creatures
true that there is an ancient,
Tomorrow you will become at the wall,
because every crime is crowned with a penalty.
(Sad Clown)
This poem I published already in the network
the another nickname.
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