JADWIGA BUJAK-PISAREK
HOW DO YOU FEEL, MOM
Joyful, joyful,
what eyesight you fill with the
colors of the sky
and like a bell,
at dawn you sing the soul.
You cover yourself with concern
like the wings of an angel,
words of love
you give us strength.
Sad daughter here,
where the house is whispering with
a memory,
eyes perched on the photographs
he hardly recognizes faces.
Well, every flower
whispers your names
and shooting buds
he mimics the voices.
ANXIETY
The sky overcast the sky
a drop of rain carries dry grass,
the wind invites you to a joint
journey,
to comb the tangled twigs.
It saddened people's fate,
who are nothing in the oracle
they go from east to east,
without a stop, like water at the
mill.
He hears the whisper of beleaguered
thoughts,
dreams, which are far from the end.
The world is dressed in buzzing
silver
he counts, recalculates the rest of
his forces.
And here is spring in the most
beautiful dress
like a rose touches the discounts,
white and yellow are laughing at the
lawns,
bird singing sounds the most
beautiful.
THE BEAUTY OF THE MORNING
The night breathes with moisture,
in the distance you can see the
horizon.
Jutrzenka chooses a dress
for a journey with dawn.
Bird singing stops
sleepy stories -
inexplicable
the state of infinity.
Somewhere near the forest, an echo
it is woven into veils of mists,
which they capture
voice remembered.
The brook is fast enough
and quiet murmuring
welcomes spring,
what sits at the edges.
YOU WERE THERE
I carried the cross yesterday
as great as suffering.
Prayer for Mercy
walked through the streets.
The rain fell silent
listened to prayers
suffering pilgrims.
More and more, Lord.
Frozen hands
they touched the spar,
to at least for a moment
bear your fault.
I carried Jesus,
but I did not feel pain -
even at that moment
you took it on yourself.
JADWIGA BUJAK-PISAREK
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