Wojciech Młynarski - Lubię Wrony

I like crows

In bergerettes, ballads, canzones
very rarely is there reference made to crows
but I have such a twisted liking
that I like crows...

Fortune gave them not a light fate:
a thin branch and a poor little field
black is this creature and it digs in the dirt
but I like it...

When the wind blows in the field covered in snow
not even for a while any crow conceals that
they stay for the winter
because they fly badly...

But a crow, no matter if it's young or old
doesn't even try to come up with
a justification or a manifesto for that
and this just graces it...

When they gape their beak - they know exactly
that their voices sound rather unattractively
but they aren't ashamed of that and they don't explain themselves
that they caw badly...

And the wild thought of pretending to be a nightingale by cawing
of finding solace for themselves in cawing
doesn't dawn on them
and that's grand!

No crow cherishes illusions either
that somebody will place a scarecrow for scaring people away
who lie in wait for crows night or day
with a slingshot...

Crows fly over the stubble field with dignity
as if they were doing fine with all that
and just right there crowlike self-mockery
shows...

They don't fake cuteness uncandidly
they bravely stand by their evil character
they don't put aside in the affluent chamber
when they peck more...

They know that despite all the transition
bananas won't sprout in the stubble field
grubs won't turn into caviar
'cause that's the way the cookie crumbles...

In bergerettes, ballads, canzones... /etc./

Fortune gave them not a light fate:
a thin branch and a poor little field
black is this thing and it grubs in the ground
but I like them
but I do like them...