You And I

Out of my way now: Black are my hands and damp is my clothing. Only a miner am I, to-day noble thou; Thou’rt from a palace, a hut is my dwelling. Frigid’s the cap I wear, with a visor on, Orphans’ lamenting prayers do not follow me; Eaten up fields for them have hares of thine. Heartless and soulless thou’rt, lightning smite thee! I am from Bezkyd, thralldom and sorrow’s son. I slave in foundery, I slave in thy mine, Gall seethes in my veins, but still I slave, I catch thy logs on the foaming river’s wave. Black am I, poor am I, sweat pours from my brow, Children in Bezkyd weep not on my account now. Widows oppressed I not, nor did I seize their share, And so a beggar am I, a noble thou to-day. Did you arrive in the mountains? Then take care. Frigid’s my cap. Get thee out of my way.

70,000

There’re seventy thousand of us Before Těšín, before Těšín. A hundred thousand Germanized, A hundred thousand Polanized, A holy peace rests in my heart. When we remain but seventy, Of thousands only seventy, May we live?

They’re digging seventy thousand Graves for us all before Těšín. At times some one sobs to the space Above. His plea remains unfilled: A foreign god laughs in his face. And bluntly we gaze in a flock How they place our heads upon the block, As ox at slaughter of an ox.

And marquis Gero is so rich: Give casks to us for seventy, Give casks for thousands seventy. A half of us will Germanize, A half of us will Polanize, A hundred lips will peal for thee: Hail, marquis Gero, hail to thee! But first before we perish thus, May ruddy wine intoxicate us, Bond-woman, daughter, man and son, Before Těšín, before Těšín.