A.Oppman - Echa niewoli.docx

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                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Echa niewoli                                                                                                                                                                                O, graj!                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Jak szumi smętny gaj,                                                                                                                                                         Gdy pieśń go budzi drżąca,                                                                                                                                                             Jak szumi smętny gaj,                                                                                                                                                                                                              Gdy wiatr mu liście strąca,                                                                                                                                                                                          Jak wzdycha polny kwiat,                                                                                                                                                                                               Pojony krwawą rosą,                                                                                                                                                                                                  Jak wzdycha polny kwiat,                                                                                                                                                                                     Osnuty w cień i w mgły…                                                                                                                                                                              O, graj!                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Jak płynąc w niebios kraj                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Anioły w gwiazd diademie,                                                                                                                                                                Jak płynąc w niebios kraj,                                                                                                                                                                                                         Żegnają chmurną ziemię,                                                                                                                                                                                    Jak z naszych smętnych chat                                                                                                                                                                                        Najkrwawsze skargi niosą,                                                                                                                                                                  Jak z naszych smętnych chat                                                                                                                                                                  Do Boga niosą łzy…                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   O, graj!                                                                                                                                                                                      Jak stroi kwietny maj                                                                                                                                                                             Samotnych grobów tyle,                                                                                                                                                                                                    Ja stroi się maj                                                                                                                                                                                                 Te krzyże na mogile,                                                                                                                                                                            Jak sieje ciche  łzy,                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Tajonym łkając płaczem,                                                                                                                                                                              Jak sieje ciche łzy                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Cmentarna ziemia ta.                                                                                                                                                                                 O , graj!                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Jak zniknął cudny raj,                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Jak brzmią pogrzebne dzwony,                                                                                                                                                                                                    Jak zniknął cudny raj ,                                                                                                                                                    Do dzisiaj nie wrócony,                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Jak krwawo tęsknisz ty:                                                                                                                                                                                                                         Do czego?... po kim?... za czym?....                                                                                                                                                                      Jak krwawo tęsknisz ty…                                                                                                                                                           Ja krwawo tęsknię ja…                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Deszcz                                                                                                                                                                                  Deszcz za oknem mży,                                                                                                                                               Świat otula mgła,                                                                                                                                                          Zda się ,płyną łzy                                                                                                                                                          Zda się, niebo łka,                                                                                                                                                          Płomyk lampki drży,                                                                                                                                            Świerszcz w kominie gra,                                                                                                                                            Deszcz za oknem mży,                                                                                                                                            Świat ogarnia mgła…                                                                                                                                                          Wsparł na dłoni skroń,                                                                                                                                            W dal zatopił wzrok,                                                                                                                                            Przeszłość wraca doń,                                                                                                                                            W ten jesienny zmrok,                                                                                                                                            Jakiś wonny maj,                                                                                                                                                          Jakiś sen bez chmur,                                                                                                                                            I rodzinny kraj,                                                                                                                                                          I ojcowy dwór….                                                                                                                                            W obcej ziemi tej,                                                                                                                                                          Pierś zatruwa jad,              ...

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