After 10 April 2011 in the press and published dozens of poems online Smolensk, written by rookies and lesser-known poets, as well as by writers, journalists, comedians, writers of songs, and finally by anonymous Internet users. They are mostly texts particularly emotional, often of a journalistic, sometimes processing tracks known from the history of literature (especially the "Funeral of President Narutowicz" Tuwim). Some have, however, an autonomous literary merit, all - the value of the certificate. Below The most interesting ones. [Ed]
Marcin Wolski
On the death of Mayor
The media
wearing the truth, and lie in a pocket, being in agreement with
herd of reason in conflict today
slightly grew pale and slightly distressed,
if you want to do something, then at least hold your peace!
do not need your tears, compliments of late.
your black, seriousness, harm of words is not what you want today
forget all your nonsense, your
jokes and ridicule poured by the glass.
Bo remembers a poet, a nation will remember your venom
filtered tirelessly, day by day.
Without respect for the functions for the symbol, the flag ...
Karle, pętaki, grows and his shadow!
From Okecie the center of Warsaw arteries,
Avenue, Miodowa and Krakow Suburb
funeral procession goes, so humble, but deadly.
A country feel - the president is once again in his city.
Its size will appreciate the people in the collective wisdom.
do not need to stir the silence faint hint of falsity.
On your knees, scoundrels, scatter ashes on his head!
Today you honor him only a minute's shame!
Marcin Wolski
Golgotha \u200b\u200b
the inhuman land, where the tomb of a new grave
the bends, where the scrap
withers and the stench of corpses -
goes on year - as a girl ...
go half-naked, quite bare, the roads
hateful.
crown of thorns in her hair has
ninety-six lives. Without fear
still persistently ence,
although so many of her insults,
scoff at it at night, and the bottom
fierce hordes of enemies of the cross.
drowns her media buzz,
not show her diaries,
sometimes you see his face reflected in her handkerchief
Saint Veronica,
But when he falls, a million hands
raises it above oblivion,
stronger every Polish tear
and every Polish heart quiver, not
given to trample enemies
will win - he knows for a long time, so here goes anyway
cross
by the last Polish parties - is true.
WILLY ZACHAR
April 10
It was perhaps not
may try to close my eyes to sleep and wake
after a bad dream became
as head shakes his head
One last piece of unfinished symphonies
the misty air boosts the last torch
It became
this movie does not let go no one in the opposite direction
landed at their place of destination
became
mystery
took with them the coffin slammed
black box black Łubianka
reliably comply with any of silence
and trees will be silent
which saw
It was hit by shrapnel
sleeping bison
opens her eyes wide with amazement
roar stuck in his throat
starts to gallop
its last batch of
April 2010
JAN SHEPHERD
Coffin President
funeral travis
street in Warsaw street by a crowd greets gloomy silence
Fog Smolensk spins up a streak of bloody
flags lowered snare drum sounds painful surprise
Mr. President returned to his town
I will never speak the message will not
This szczuty and spat
giant grows over their wickedness and moral squalor
wanted to worship the ashes of the dead at Katyn
killed himself and no longer will there
shakes Flower Company Military and trumpet floats
Silesian funeral telegrams from many countries
Poland bears the coffin as the burden of lead
Overwhelmed by the national natural stone
So many questions to pressure and no one answers
So you have to accept the pain just like a man
parade will begin at Wawel smęcąc included sleeping towns
size that does not remind one hundred years wyziębi
I can at the foot of the proud nation of kings again
And with admiration to the whole world looks at Poland
soldiers in hats that bear the coffin
will be the dull clatter of boots thundered through Poland
pavement which he always wore proudly in the heart of
And his big dreams to hear God
[CDN]
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