Trio Gintrowski Kaczmarski Łapiński - Osły i ludzie

A donkey bestrid me astride
And announced with his resonant scream
That on such steed
He will be the horseman of freedom;
He stabbed my ribs with spurs
Shoved a cube of sugar down my mouth
Cutting my legs crosswise with a tassel
He forced me easily to trot.

Donkeys' stuffiness is suffocating me
I am the horseman's cloaca
Because everything he lets out from under his tail
Gathers on my back;
Monkeys sing him songs
And call mercy what is a must;
He roars over my ear: "Don't sleep!"
And not trotting anymore but cantering

Another steed passes us by
From the effort he went deaf and blind
Donkey kicks his head
His shadow has donkey ears
No one speaks humanly anymore
Roaring and laughing they praise themselves
They stroke and whip all the way
Our cantering turns into gallop!

I run with my knees bended
I bear more than I can
Until a stupendous thought appears
And I rise my human head
It's nothing that the spurs gore
Whip plays over my ear
This horseman is made for the saddle
Horseman can be bestridden too!