SYROKOMLA WLADYSLAW [1823-1862]
Impression of Pilgrim Fragment 1858
Heart - why do you beat so fast in your breast? Why is the blood hot in your veins? Oh, the heart is a prophet, guessing from a distance how many sensations are waiting for me.
On the hill is a white wall with a church gate. Your heart guessed: IT IS CZESTOCHOWA - QUEEN OF HEAVEN who from this wall distributed graces of glory. Here you will receive the faith - If you still remember the prayers that your mother taught you.
COME! PRAY! From here NO ONE ever departs saddened. LISTEN! Do you hear the song? Through all the earth the name of MARY is thundered! From all sides of the earth, MARY's name is proclaimed!
Bells are ringing. The priest sprinkles everyone with holy water and, with song, the caravan enters the church. Heartbreak - the feeling is so strong. In the chapel, the MOTHER OF COMPASSION from the altar smiles a welcome to everyone. The crowds kneel down in mysterious silence; some have guilt for their offenses. Tears reduced, some happy voices: "Now, Holy Father, PEACE I have in my last days since I have seen the Holy Mother's face." Holy Mother in jeweled dress and silver crown Listens to her children's grievances - and intercedes to the LORD. During the whispers of prayers, our MEDIATRIX proclaims the verdict - Regained is FAITH and HOPE! The priest starts the morning prayers with music, And with music and prayers, the voices of the people FLY TO HEAVEN.
From your feet at JASNA GORA, I returned so happy, full of the Holly Spirit, Like a bird to my country. Also, I recall my ancestors who from centuries past paid their tribute to YOU, Holy Mother.
Hymn do Najswietszej Maryi Panny Ostrobramskiej
Królujaca z wysoka nad murami naszymi Rzuc promienny blask oka, spojrzyj matko ku ziemi!
Tu w b³agalnym rozgwarze p³ynie modla w przestrzeni, Tu sieroty, nêdzarze, tu na duszy strapieni;
Ich nadzieja jedyna Twoja milosc matczyna.
Znasz, co w myslach sie miesci, i co w sercach nam pala; Znasz tajniki bolesci, bo Tys sama bolala!
Wiesz kto ulgi udziela: niechze Syn Twój, Bóg-Czlowiek, Choc promykiem wesela lzy osuszy nam z powiek;
Niech sie wstawi do Syna Twoja litosc matczyna.
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