Jacek Kaczmarski i Zbigniew Łapiński - Elekcja

Arms raised towards heaven by discomposure
Latin forthy on lips
Ropes of veins on temples, bloodshot gaze
Curse, prayer or grievance.

Fingers and fists shoved under the nose
For rights of oration the battle continues
With saberly Polish language cuts, hisses and crunches
Curse, grievance, prayer.

-Time to save the sick state
Damn it- ergo sum!
I'll gather a party around the neighbours,
We'll make noise!


This one yapps to Prussians, this one is partisan of Vienna,
This one clings to Russian dress,
And the happy motherland is a concern for everyone
From there prayers, curses and moans.


This dispute between Brother-Lords is called politics
In colloqiums between an electee and electee;
Golden Magnates blandish to dweebs
Between moans, prayers and curses.



Time to save the sick state
Damn it- ergo sum!
I'll gather a party around the neighbours,
We'll make noise!

We'll go to the capital
After all, Warsaw is not Rome
There sellouts plunder,
We will bring them light!

Every crest and moustache is an augur and historian,
He has irrafragable arguments
But Viennas of Sobieski, and Pskowy of Batory
Everyone today remembers differently.

So basis is a custom, a custom- holy thing,
For Res Publica Poloniae to blossom.
Let whoever rule- as long as he won't fetter the free ones
In curses, grievances, prayers!


Time to save the sick state
Damn it- ergo sum!
I'll gather a party around the neighbours,
We'll make noise!

We'll go to the capital
After all, Warsaw is not Rome
There sellouts plunder,
We will bring them light!

There's power of us- patriots
No enemy is scary for us,
And the motherland is agreeable
And God is gracious.


We'll rip apart with our sabres
Traitors, who lead us,
Res Publica Poloniae is great
It will be enough for us!


Arms raised towards heaven before death
Black blood frozen on lips,
And in opened eyes- aghast silence
And grievance...

We'll rip apart with our sabres
Traitors, who lead us,
Res Publica Poloniae is great
Will it be enough for us?