End

I really don't care about all mistakes here. It's not meant to be correct... I can't do anything technically correct right now, damn. This animation is my form of self-expressing.

There will be no Youtube link this time.

They kept you, my fellow, from dreams like trembling butterflies,
they wove you, my fellow, in dark red blood two mournful eyes,
they painted landscapes with the yellow stitch of conflagrations,
they decorated all with hangmen’s trees the flowing oceans.

They taught you, my fellow, to know by heart your land of birth
as you were carving out with tears of iron its many paths.
They reared you in the darkness and fed you on terror’s bread;
you traveled gropingly that shamefulest of human roads.

And then you left, my lovely fellow, with your strength at midnight,
and felt the evil prickling in the sound of each new minute.
Before you fell, over the land you raised your hand in blessing.
Was it a arrow killed you, fellow, or was it your heart bursting?

Adapted from "*Elegy on . . . (a Polish boy)" by Krzysztof Kamil Baczynski


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