Red plague - Józef Szczepański "Ziutek"

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date: August 28, 2017 Editor: ArekN

Warsaw UprisingJózef Szczepańskioccupation

Red plague – the last poem by Józef Szczepański, poet of the Warsaw Uprising, written on August 29, 1944 in the face of the fall of the Old Town. He expressed anger and profession caused by the Red Army's idleness, which waited on the right bank of the Vistula River for the fall of the uprising and the bleeding out of its troops.

During the Stalinist period in Poland, this poem became 1 of the flagship works of the anti-communist opposition. Its fragments were included in Lao Che's song "Czerniaków", which was featured on the Warsaw Uprising album. Fragments of the poem were besides utilized by the De Press band on the album We are rebels. Songs of the Cursed Soldiers, which consist of songs of guerrilla troops fighting for Poland's independency from 1944 to 1953. A poem sung by Karolina Cichej and Titus can be heard on the album wawa2010.pl.

Józef Szczepański besides wrote specified insurgent poems: “Today I am going to fight, Mom!”, “To Rafał” and “In Parasol”. He is besides the author of the lyrics "Michla Palace" and "Boys Strong as Steel". He fought in the Parasol Battalion, died on September 10, 1944 as a consequence of wounds sustained during evacuation from the Old Town.

for: wikipedia

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We're waiting for you, red plague,
To save us from black death,
You would have torn the country apart before,
was a salvation greeted with disgust.

We're waiting for you, you large crowd
You're a fool.
We wait for you to crush us with your shoe
His flood and his slogan.

We wait for you, you eternal enemy,
Murderer bloody crowd of our brothers,
We're waiting for you, not to pay,
But welcome to the household door with bread.

So that you know, hateful savior,
What death we want you in gratitude
And how helplessly we clamp our hands
Help me ask, you sneaky bully.

So that you know the grandfathers of our executioners,
Sibir prisoner dreary legend,
as your goodness will all curse here,
All Slavs, all your brothers

Just so you know how much it hurts.
us, the children of the Great, the Independent, the Holy
chained to thy cursed grace,
A stinking yoke of age captivity.

The leg of your army victorious, red
at the ft of bright burning Warsaw
And they will teardrop the soul with bloody pain
A fistful of madmen, which are dying on the rubble.

A period has passed since the Insurrection of the moment,
You're fooling us with a cannon of your beating,
knowing how bad it's gonna be after that.
Tell each another they've fooled us again.

We're waiting for you, not for us, soldiers,
For our wounded - we have thousands of them,
and the children are here and the nursing mothers,
And after the basements, the plague spreads.

We wait for you - you wait and wait,
You're afraid of us, and we know it.
You want us all to come down here,
Our demolition at Warsaw is waiting.

You're not doing anything to us - you have the right to choose,
You can aid us, you can save us
Or wait further and die leave...
Death is not terrible, we can die.

But know that from our grave
New is Poland - the victorious is born.
And in this land you will not walk
The red ruler of the shattered force.

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