W.Broniewski - Komuna paryska.docx

(21 KB) Pobierz


140px-Red_flag_II.svg.png
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Komuna paryska – fragment -                                                                                                                                 Słuchają, usta zatnij,                                                                                                                   czoła nie zniżaj.                                                                                                                                   Oto opowieść o dniach ostatnich                                                                                           Komuny miasta Paryża.                                                                                                            I                                                                                                                                            Bębny, bębny nocą warczały,                                                                                                           nim świt zaświecił blady,                                                                                                                                  padły w mieście pierwsze strzały,                                                                                           stanęły barykady.                                                                                                                                                                                                         Bramy zdobyto, wzięto forty,                                                                                                                              śmierć bliska.                                                                                                                              Z każdej ulicy, jak z areny,                                                                                                upływa krew paryska.                                                                                                                                                                                        Ale Komuna się nie podda,                                                                                                                                           Komuna śmiercią gardzi!                                                                                                                                               Paryżu gniewny, okrzyk podaj:                                                                                                    „Do broni komunardzi!                                                                                                                                                                    Do broni, ludu roboczy!                                                                                                     Dzieci! Kobiety! Starcy!                                                                                                                Krew ulicami broczy,                                                                                                         krwi jeszcze dziś wystarczy!                                                                                                                  Nim chmary żokłactwa runą,                                                                                                                 nim przejdą po rannym ciele,                                                                                                                                 na barykady, Komuno,                                                                                                                                               do broni, obywatele!”                                                                                                                          VIII                                                                                                                                    Walcz, barykado1                                                                                                                                    Giń, barykado!                                                                                                                Unoś się gniewna                                                                                                                   pieśni paryska!                                                                                                                    Czerwonoskrzydłą                                                                                                                            ptaków gromadą                                                                                                                                    ponad trupami                                                                                                                     leć na pociskach!                                                                                                                                           Walcz, barykado!                                                                                                                                            Giń nieugięta!                                                                                                                                                   Będzie zwycięstwo,                                                                                                                                    będzie zapłata.                                           431                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Ludu roboczy,                                                                                                                                                                                   patrz i pamiętaj!                                                                                                                                                                   Proletariusze                                                                                                                                                                              Francji i świata!                                                                                                                                                                  Giń barykado!                                                                                                                                                        Sztandar wnieś wyżej!                                                                                                                                                      Wolna do końca,                                                                                                                                      padnij i skonaj,                                                                                                                 groźna, ostatnia,                                                                                                                          w martwym Paryżu,                                                                                                                                         niezwyciężona,                                                                                                                               niezwyciężona!                                                                                                                                                     IX                                                                                                                                                        Rozstrzelano trzydzieści tysięcy,                                                                                                                           sto tysięcy zakuto w łańcuchy.                                                                                                                          Krwi ani sił już nie ma więcej                                                                                                    Paryż zmartwiały i głuchy.                                                                                                                                                                Odezwa na rogu ulicy:                                                                                                                                                                „Paryżanie dzisiaj powraca                                                                                                                                do wyzwolonej stolicy                                                                                                                                prawo, porządek i praca…”                                                                                                             Bruk do barykad wyrwany                                                                                                 zęby kamienne szczerzy,                                                                                                                                          trzaskają salwy, brzęczą kajdany,                                                                                                                                   maszerują oddziały żołnierzy.                           ...

Zgłoś jeśli naruszono regulamin