The Famous Invocation of Poland’s National Epic

I stopped by St. Patrick’s in New York over the weekend and noticed this replica of Poland’s most famous icon — the “Black Madonna” of Częstochowa — and thought I should post an extremely well-known bit of Polish poetry: the opening lines (inwokacja) of Adam Mickiewicz’s epic Pan Tadeusz. I used to teach this work in second-year Polish; it’s one of my favorite works — but one that isn’t the most accessible, both because of the many details of Polish history and custom, and because it’s very difficult to translate; the loss of the form of the original just leaves an awkward mess. The original is composed in rhyming 13-syllable lines (traditional Polish verse is syllabic — like traditional French poetry, and totally unlike, say, Russian poetry). The original has it all… history, tragedy, battles, romance, mushroom-gathering, bear-hunting, ant attacks, coffee, a haunted castle — and it moves effortlessly from genuine humor to deep pathos. One gets a sense of this even in the opening four lines, which open with a kind of witticism and end with heart-rending nostalgia — the nostalgia that fuels the entire work. The work is a pure delight to read from start to finish… an absolute masterpiece that is barely appreciated outside of Poland.

Anyway, as the vagaries of history would have it, a work known as Poland’s national epic opens with “Lithuania!” in the vocative case. Mickiewicz was born in what it now Belarus, but studied in Vilnius, and the opening here invokes the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, once a powerful nation that, by Mickiewicz’s day, had been carved up by Prussia, Austro-Hungary, and Russia; Vilnius itself was under Russian occupation, and Mickiewicz, arrested for involvement in a kind of patriotic college fraternity, was exiled, first, to Russia, before later moving to France, and never saw his homeland again. There’s a lot to say about Mickiewicz, but I’ll leave things here for now!

The epic opens as any epic should: with an invocation of the muse — in this case, the Virgin Mary. The narrator recalls being miraculously healed by Mary as a small child, and prays that a similar miracle might one day allow him to return to his lost homeland, whose landscape he describes with a full palette of colored plants. This almost encyclopedic tone recurs throughout this work, which itself might be read as a (miraculous) attempt by Mickiewicz to return his fellow exiles to Poland with a sense of fullness and immediacy that would stave off oblivion.

Lithuania! My Homeland! You are like good health:
Only he learns how precious you are
Who has lost you. Today I am able to see — and describe in writing —
Your full beauty, precisely because I miss you.

O Holy Virgin — You who protect radiant Czestochowa,
And shine within the Gate of Dawn! You, who watch over the
Walled city of Nowogródek, with its faithful folk!
Just as you restored me to health, by a miracle, when I was but a child
(When, given over to your protection by my weeping mother,
I raised a dead eyelid,
And was immediately able to walk to the threshold of your shrine
To thank God for the life returned to me),
So too may you restore us, by a miracle, to the bosom of our Homeland.
But in the meantime, carry my longing soul
To those wooded hills, to those green meadows
That sprawl above the deep blue Neman;
To those fields, painted with grains of every kind,
Gilded with wheat, silvered with rye;
Where the amber-colored wild radish, the buckwheat white as snow,
Where the clover burns like the blush on a maiden’s cheek,
And everything is girdled, as if by a ribbon, by a boundary strip
Of green, where, here and there, sit silent pear trees.

Litwo! Ojczyzno moja! ty jesteś jak zdrowie:
Ile cię trzeba cenić, ten tylko się dowie,
Kto cię stracił. Dziś piękność twą w całej ozdobie
Widzę i opisuję, bo tęsknię po tobie.

Panno święta, co Jasnej bronisz Częstochowy
I w Ostrej świecisz Bramie! Ty, co gród zamkowy
Nowogródzki ochraniasz z jego wiernym ludem!
Jak mnie dziecko do zdrowia powróciłaś cudem
(Gdy od płaczącej matki, pod Twoją opiekę
Ofiarowany, martwą podniosłem powiekę;
I zaraz mogłem pieszo, do Twych świątyń progu
Iść za wrócone życie podziękować Bogu),
Tak nas powrócisz cudem na Ojczyzny łono.
Tymczasem przenoś moją duszę utęsknioną
Do tych pagórków leśnych, do tych łąk zielonych,
Szeroko nad błękitnym Niemnem rozciągnionych;
Do tych pól malowanych zbożem rozmaitem,
Wyzłacanych pszenicą, posrebrzanych żytem;
Gdzie bursztynowy świerzop, gryka jak śnieg biała,
Gdzie panieńskim rumieńcem dzięcielina pała,
A wszystko przepasane jakby wstęgą, miedzą
Zieloną, na niej z rzadka ciche grusze siedzą.

Litwa: Lithuania • ojczyzna: fatherland • cenić: to value • dowiadywać się / dowiedzieć się: to find out • tracić /stracić: to lose  piękność: beauty • cały: whole • ozdoba: adornment • opisywać /opisać: to describe • tęsknić / zatęsknić po kimś: to miss • Panna święta: Holy Virgin • bronić czegoś: to defend  świecić: to shine • brama: gate • gród
zamkowy: fortified city • ochraniać / ochronić: to protect • lud: people • powracać / powrócić do: to return to • cud: miracle • płakać A: to weep • opieka: protection • ofiarować: to present, donate • podnosić / podnieść: to raise, lift • powieka: eyelid • zaraz: right away  pieszo: by foot • świątynia: temple • próg: threshold •  wrócony: returned, restored • życie: life • Bóg: God • łono: lap, bosom • tymczasem: in the meantime • dusza: soul • utęskniony: full of longing  pagórek: hill • leśny: from las: forest • łąka: meadow • Niemen: the Neman River • rozciągniony: stretched • malować / namalować: to paint • zboże: grain • rozmaity: various • wyzłacać / wyzłocić: to gild  pszenica: wheat  posrebrzać /
postrzebrzyć: to coat in silver • żyto: rye • bursztyn: amber • świerzop: wild radish • gryka: buckwheat  panieński rumieniec: a maiden’s blush • dzięcielina: clover • pałać: to burn • przepasywać /przepasać: to girdle • wstęga: ribbon • miedza: boundary strip • z rzadka: here and there • grusza: pear tree