Trio Gintrowski Kaczmarski Łapiński - Requiem rozbiorowe

My memory- of dreary nature:
It does not want to resurrect luscious delights,
A flute will not make it emotional,
A tambourine will not liven it up,
Coltish luck fazes and flushes it.

My memory is animated by mourning,
But not sublimated by desolation of a crier,
Just this furious shame,
That wanders around the graves,
Overgrown with sticky mould of legends.

If it desecrates the thundering rituals,
If it messes about the bashful remains-
It is not to have
A popular subject to sing about,
But for the shame to be a boost for the alive.








At breakfast at Czarina's
An ample dish is being divided:
The feasters are negotiating
Who should get which morsel and which part.

For this one- a Galician piece,
For this one- a Wielkopolski bite;
The (she-)monarch is eating over the table
Loin "Polonia a la russe"

(Choir):
She will not deck herself with garnish
Instead she shines with blood sauce,
Dies irae, dies irae
Days of wrath are going towards her.



A feast in the name of the Holy Trinity
Of the enlightened autocrates
Confirmed by a document
That has the power of a treaty.
There is nothing like a full bowl
To the diplomatic game,
Although there is a dubious dainty on it:
Polish cabbageheads.

(Choir):

Soon they will bend over them
In order to bled them
Dies irae, dies irae
Days of wrath are going towards her.



Polish tavern is still drunk
From its deranged strifes,
Poland of the lord and parson
Sunk in boorish babble.
Byzantine pageantry on it
Asian dirt on it
So it sticks to the three pairs of arms
And feeds the triple hunger.

(Choir:)

No one will cover her with shroud
No one will shed a tear over her
Dies irae, dies irae
Days of wrath are going towards her





Sleep quietly, fathers and mothers
Our "I"- that is so bleary today.
Cases of life are already beyond you
And the choice between salvation and torture.
You do not have to care about anything anymore
Touched by life - spin sadness of death.
The time coughed out to us a strange heritage,
Nontransferable for any other currency.

(Choir:)

Sleep- you, beyond the good, beyond the bad
Requiem


Sleep quietly - you betrayed, you exiled,
Meat of epics whining for sense;
The lost ones, guards of invisible borders
Marked by the majetsy of defeats.
Let the screeching tattoos not awake you,
Parades, drumrolls, anniversary Masses;
Grey - with the lead of conscience - soldier toys,
Rattle in the box of the memory, on the bottom!

(Choir:)

Sleep- now beyond the good, beyond the bad
Requiem



Sleep quietly - you loyal to the hidden treasons,
Bought for pittance of fear of your pride,
You criminal tenants of the cemetary province,
Of hetman batons, of bishop rings.
No one will disgrace your graves today;
The Day of Judgement is distant, uncertain,
Uncounted paths of oblivion,
God merciful, human - shortly wrathful.

(Choir:)

Sleep - again beyond the good, beyond the bad
Requiem




Sleep quietly - profound Sages,
Jugglers of light, so helplessly fine,
That even unable to be surprised with that
When the noble pain glows with rot in the darkness.
You knew everything the best, in advance
But you were not able to prevent anything:
Loaded gun - that will not fire,
Because it has to hang on the wall, for decoration.

(Choir:)

So sleep, beyond the good, beyond the bad
Requiem


And you sleep quietly, you shapeless crowd
Of illiterates with dislocated necks,
Whose awe no one will understand
A Sage, a warrior, a lostman, nor a traitor.
Sleep, because you also thought, fought and betrayed too;
Why would you be better than these aces,
For which human, faith, mind, power
Serve only for that to serve them!



Sleep you stopped by good, driven by evil
Requiem



(Choir:)

We are- as we are
We were- as we were
Let's raise this truth about us
In this short, given to us moment.
We will be- as we want
Just to know- what to want,
Although we do not know- what we do not know
So we do not have - what we want to have.
We could what is forbidden,
What is allowed - we do not want to be able.
We prefer slavery than freedom,
In which there is nothing to hit your head against.
So we will be- as we were,
So we are - but as we are not
In this short, given to us moment,
That will not be existent tomorrow anyway.





For these in crimson, for these in casemates,
For these in hoods and for these on the ropes,
For these in carriages and for these in coradges
Lacrimosa

(Choir:)

We do not have hands- we have mitts,
We do not have heads- we have noggins
So for us scraps,
So after us - tears.



For these in proud pose, and for these in humility,
For these in barracks and for these in nightmares
For these in skies and for these in camps-
Lacrimosa



We do not have dreams - but ravings,
We do not have thoughts - but madness,
That is why the dinky fate,
That is why the voice cries as it cried.



For these- golden grains, for these- blade of knife
For these- trail after skids, for these- sludge of wasteland,
For these- God's grace, for these troubled awe
Lacrimosa.

(Choir:)

We do not have belief but illusions,
For our history - set of myths.
That is why the toil will last
Our own cry and laughter at us.