Edward Stachura - Ballada dla Potęgowej

Where will the edge of the roads lead us
The zigzagging thread of life

To the village of Zagubin in white Kuyavia
Where the land is poor, with extraordinary sands
Goats, mullein, pines, and crossroads
And Potęgowa as lonely as a finger

So we stayed with Potęgowa
We temporarily set up quarters there
We worked in the fields and carried wood from the forest
Lived like an old mother and two sons

The sun shone on us sideways
Because it was late autumn, morning dew
In the evening, a white-haired specter of fog
Confused us with the image of the future

We lived like an old mother and two sons
We grew fond of Potęgowa
A tapestry with colorful patterns hung on the wall
And no one will guess why we set off into the distance

Where will the edge of the roads lead us
The zigzagging thread of life

It will lead us there when the time comes
Where Potęgowa is now, it’s paradise
Then we will throw a grand ball
Hey! Potęgowa, hey! Witek and I

And those who died or will perish with us
Brothers, comrades from the road under the clouds
A whole lot of people will gather at the ball
Oh! - how the heavenly dance hall will rumble.