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著者: Adam Mickiewicz

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"And only the dwellers in those lands have remained true to me
until now; some as faithful friends, some as trusty allies! For
who dwelt there? Mother, brothers, kindred, good neighbours! When
one of them passed away, how tenderly did they speak of him! How
many memories, what long-continued sorrow, in that land where a
servant is more devoted to his master than in other countries a
wife to her husband; where a soldier sorrows longer over his
weapons than here a son over his father; where they weep longer
and more sincerely over a dog than here the people weep for a
hero!
"And in those days my friends aided my speech and cast me word
after word for my songs; like the fabled cranes on the wild
island, which flew in spring over the enchanted palace and heard
the loud lament of an enchanted boy: each bird threw the boy a
single feather; he made him wings and returned to his own people.
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