Photographer's Note

Not my Dunajec

Not my Dunajec rushes me,
not my smart water,
just come to the old dreams ---
freedom --- oh! freedom! ...

Do not remind me Dream
of my youth, healthy sleep.
I feel sorry for the soul to tears
over the breast of the human power of speech!

Nobody loved resinous huts,
fires crackle and smoke,
and none above the peaks of the Tatras
deaf staring down the heavens ...

And no one loved the world so
lonely rocky road –
the cliffs beneath the bird swinging fists
and feet ... the horror and feet ... the horror

Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer

Kofman, AliMoein marcou esta nota como útil

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