Showing posts with label Polish exiles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Polish exiles. Show all posts

Friday, November 10, 2023

Polish Refugees Surviving Global Politics (Vol. 14, No. 4)


At the time of Thanksgiving we think of things we are thankful for. Let's start from a positive lesson and some advice...

A Starchild’s Lesson

I found the Philosopher’s Stone. 
Transmogrification.
Fear into Love. The lead of sorrow
into the pure gold of childlike laughter. 
There is no other alchemy, but this.

“Shine”— said the Voice.
“Be fruitful”—Someone wrote
in the Great Book for all ages. 
Even if half true, it is true enough.

Listen. Do not stray from your path. 
You know what lies ahead —
past a frozen meadow of snowdrops and sasanki, 
white and violet, glowing with innocence
 in a forest clearing —

past peach orchards, misty with blizzards
of falling petals —past lakes of blooming lotus, 
patiently stretching from mud to the Sun — 
past golden fields of rye, ready for harvest,
to make bread for the journey—

Open the parasol of ancient wisdom above you — 
for shelter, as you walk into the embrace of your destiny
and shine — shine — shine —

NOTE: Sasanka, plural sasanki is a Polish name of a spring wildflower called Pulsatilla or Pasqueflower from genus Anemone.

(c) Maja Trochimczyk, published in "Crystal Fire: Poems of Joy and Wisdom" (2022)

Cemetery in Trzebieszow, May 2023

Polish survivors of WWII and their families have lots of reasons for gratitude. Many of these reasons were suppressed in the media in the 50 years after the war ended, when Polish People's Republic was a Soviet satellite state and actively concealed proof of Soviet crimes against Poles and Poland.  So... let me recall some family facts....

Poland first fought with the Soviet Union in 1920 when Soviets invaded the newly reborn Second Polish Republic after 123 years of partitions (when the country was split between Russia, Prussia and Austria, the latter the most tolerant). Poland was recreated in WWI Peace Treaty of 1918, signed on 11 November, Poland's Independence Day - the patriot, pianist and composer Ignacy Jan Paderewski was the signatory. He later became Poland's Prime Minister. In 1920, the Soviet troops went all the way to Warsaw on their way to conquer Europe, but "A Miracle on the Vistula" took place, while all citizens fought back and the Red Army was defeated and sent back.  I talked about Paderewski and Poland's Independence here:

https://chopinwithcherries.blogspot.com/2018/10/paderewski-100-years-of-polands.html

My grandfather Stanislaw Wajszczuk fought in WWI. During the revolution in Russia, he was a  conscript to the White Army and participated in battles in St. Petersburg; he saw blood flowing down the streets, unspeakable atrocities. Then, his brigade was sent to the Western front to fight against German troops. He was caught by Germans and imprisoned in Dachau, until he escaped with help from a prison commander's daughter. Two decades later, his brother, Feliks Wajszczuk, a Catholic priest, was imprisoned also by Germans and also in Dachau (1940-1945); subject to medical experiments on lung capacity, he barely survived. 

In 1917, Marshal Jozef Pilsudski started forming his Legions to liberate Poland. No longer a German Prisoner of War, my Grandpa joined the Legions and fought with them to liberate Poland.  Thus, I can say that mine is a "Pilsudczyk" family. I did not know about this for decades, just that my Mom taught me to sing the Legionnaires' songs, and that she had a portrait of Marshal Pilsudski on her living room wall. Knowing these facts as a student in the Polish People's Republic was dangerous for the family; I could have disclosed it accidentally at school...

Father Feliks (Felix) Wajszczuk's letters to his mother Jozefa from Dachau Concentration Camp. Prisoner Number 22732,  HIs cousin Father Karol Leonard Wajszczuk (Karl, 1887-1942) died in Dachau, Prisoner Number 22572

Fast forward to 1939, my Grandpa was in Baranowicze (now in Belarus), working for the Polish railroads and the radio station. By that time, he was already married, with two children. When Soviets struck a secret deal with Nazi Germany and invaded Poland on 17 September 1939 he went into hiding. Another former Polish soldier, Uncle Glinski was shot in the street by NKVD, his widow, Ciocia Tonia (Antonina) was arrested the next day with two sons and deported to Siberia, where one son died. I talked about some of these stories here: 

https://chopinwithcherries.blogspot.com/2021/01/portraits-of-survivors-babcia-prababcia.html

In total, over 1 million Poles were deported by Soviets to Siberia or Kazakhstan. While parents often perished, orphaned children survived. Deportations of Poles from then-Polish lands of modern Ukraine and Belarus (it was all part of Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth since 1364)  started already in 1937. These were not random acts of terror, but a full scale pre-planned campaign of ethnic cleansing removing Polish residents from formerly Polish lands, some incorporated into the Russia in 1918, the rest taken over by Soviet Union after 1945. (In the Ukraine about 200,000 Poles were murdered by UPA Ukrainian Nationalists during WWII; I know children of survivors, living here in California). My mother's aunt and uncle were among the Polish deportee orphans in Siberia, their parents perished of hunger and disease.

Grandfather Stanislaw Wajszczuk and Grandmother Maria Anna Wajszczuk, nee Wasiuk

But my grandparents were lucky. They were not deported. In 1939, my grandparents and mother made it through the border from Soviet-occupied Baranowicze to German-occupied Poland. Their destination was my Grandpa's ancestral village where they lived out the rest of the war. 20 people slept in a two-bedroom house, this ordeal lasted for 4 years, food was scarce. During the illegal border crossing, a German soldier took all their valuables - gold coins and jewelry and gave them a receipt. My Aunt Barbara framed it later, since post-war Germany refused to honor it and return what was stolen. Maybe the receipt was fake and the soldier pocketed the gains. Who knows... In any case, the Soviets did not pay reparations either - and they owed a lot, for the lost house, as well as estates of other members of extended family... 

https://chopinwithcherries.blogspot.com/2022/09/remembering-polish-war-anniversaries.html

The house of survivors in Trzebieszow

After the British and Americans struck a deal with Stalin to take over Eastern Europe after WWII, a secret deal made in Teheran in 1943 and sealed in Yalta in 1945 (a deal that nobody knew about until  the takeovers started), Gen. Wladyslaw Anders was allowed to take out imprisoned soldiers from the Soviet camps, in order to form the Polish Second Corps. The soldiers were allowed to take their families with them, while orphaned children were allowed to leave as well, cared for by the Red Cross. Orphaned Irena (my mom's Aunt) went with the troops to Iran, where the refugees were divided and sent to other camps. Irena went with the Red Cross through Switzerland to Chicago, where she later married and had a family. About 220,000 people were saved by Gen. Anders.  They dispersed around the world.

≡ SHAMBHALA ≡

Do children who die on the way
carry bejeweled parasols in a Tibetan heaven?

Is Siberia too far from Shambhala
for the bedraggled orphans to enter through
its golden doorways, glistening with ten thousand
ornaments, treasures from a galaxy with ten billion suns?

Are they too sick and dirty to walk on a shining path
made for the birth of the Buddha — scented
with sandalwood, adorned with an unsurpassed
multitude of rarest gems.

When the Buddha was born, the Earth
moved six ways, the wise man said.

Did it move at least once to mark your passage?

When you rolled in pain and moaned
until the blessed moment of relief?
Gave up your last breath like a crystal question mark
in a frozen Siberian air? Convulsed
in a sudden burst of gunfire, a bullet straight
through your heart? Froze to death in a convoy?
Fainted on the floor of a railroad car?

There was no hooting of owls, they say,
when the great Shakyamuni Buddha
was born. Sweet sounding music floated 
through a myriad of flowering orchards,
filled with a rainbow of gemstone trees.

Did you hear an owl hoot when you died?

Oh, hungry child of gulags, the lost child
of Siberia — Did the Earth move?

Were there parasols, or owls?

(C) 2021 by Maja Trochimczyk, published in The Rainy Bread: New Poems from Exile (2021)


https://culture.pl/en/article/the-maharaja-who-saved-hundreds-of-polish-orphans

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xAdW1gIN4E (interview with one of the orphans from India)

The 1000 children who went to India and were saved by the Maharajah, had an interesting teacher with them. Poland's most famous pop singer and movie star Hanka Ordonowna, who went to India as their teacher and counselor, and wrote a great book of horror stories told to her by the children survivors, starving, ill, and covered with lice when she met them. It was such a blessing for her and for the children to encounter a real saint, the Indian Maharajah, with such generosity and love. 

After a performance, Polish orphans with the Maharajah in India, Wikimedia Commmons.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYkFiUsEQ8U - Ordonka sings "Love will forgive you everything..." 

Ordonka's greatest hit "Love will forgive you everything" was named Poland's no. 1 song 50 years after the war. Its composer Henryk Warszawski, known in California as Henry Vars, was a soldier in Anders' army, a Polish-Jewish musician who after surviving the war, established a film-composer career here. Its poet, Julian Tuwim, was also Polish-Jewish and survived the war in South America, he wrote some of the greatest poems of Polish language and was enticed to return to post-war Poland, but died in 1953 without publishing much except of Poland's most famous and beloved children's verse, I still know two of these poems by heart. I wrote a poem for Ordonka, in my "Rainy Bread" book, second expanded version:

https://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2021/04/new-e-book-edition-of-rainy-bread-poems.html

Hanna Ordonowna, Wikimedia commons

More poems from the second edition of the book are here:

https://poetrylaurels.blogspot.com/2021/10/trochimczyks-rainy-bread-more-poems.html

Poles in California had among them some survivors from Anders's Army orphans and soldiers, poet Kazimierz Cybulski among them. He went through Iran, though, and then was sent to Uganda where he was in a refugee camp for several years. After the war, over 120,000 soldiers went to England, where they lived in refugee camps closed only in the 1960s. Britain did not want them to live there, just to fight for them. They were gradually sent out to all parts of the British Empire. Many went to Canada and Australia, some were allowed to immigrate to the U.S.  I found Cybulski's obituary online, albeit in Polish, he was a Polish-language poet: https://www.zppno.org/aktualnosci/kazimierz-cybulski-nie-zyje/

I did not write about him, but I commemorated the deportations with a poem published in the expanded version of The Rainy Bread: New Poems from Exile (2021).

≡ OF TRAINS AND TEA ≡

I remember trains and horse-drawn wagons –
being all cooped up in a pile of blankets.
Was it so far? Were we going in circles?

Давайте, пойдем — Xорошо, хорошо


Yes, I remember the hypnotic noise
of train wheels on the railroad tracks.
Piercing, repetitive, permeating your body
and echoing in your brain. To the border,
two days waiting, then a different patter
of Russian, broader tracks.

It was dark and cold and I was afraid.

Yes, I was, too. I did not know where
we were going, what dark hut was destined
to be our home for who knows how many years.

The road there was so long.
Stopping and starting.
As if to never end.

The sad train whistle, the calls
of the guards, that’s what’s real now —
as they sit, sipping tea out of fine bone china
on the patio scented with orange blossoms
of the glorious California spring.

Мы готовы — давайте —
xорошо, хорошо —

(c) by Maja Trochimczyk, published in "The Rainy Bread: New Poems from Exile" 2021

Polish sky in May 2023

After the war ended, Poland was denied the right to participate in the Victory Parade in 1945. All stories of refugees and survivors were suppressed - like the stories during the war of trains of refugees and orphans going through the U.S. to Mexico, where in Santa Rosa camp over 3000 survivors lived. (trains had blacked out windows, and moved at night to not be seen by Americans, Stalin was the good guy for them then, on covers of magazines!). They continued write about what they remembered: here are some poems by Alexander Janta Polczynski, published in England:

https://chopinwithcherries.blogspot.com/2018/08/from-13-polish-psalms-by-alexander.html

Polish government in exile in London continued to be active, though not recognized by Allies until 1989 when it dissolved; these same Allies betrayed their agreements to defend Poland in 1939. Survivors had no home to return to. After 1944, when Polish People's Republic was formed by Soviets, a puppet government was installed. Polish People's Republic in its first ten years during the Stalinist regime of Boleslaw Bierut murdered and imprisoned thousands of survivors of the Home Army, and especially soldiers and leaders of the Second Polish Republic. 

Meanwhile, deportations from former Polish lands took the rest of 3-4.5 million of Polish inhabitants from what is now Belarus, Lithuania and Ukraine to former German lands of Silesia and Pomerania that were given to Poland in the Stalin-Churchill-Roosevelt deal. These lands were emptied of German residents. I know a German music historian Martina Homma who was kicked out of Gdansk, her family had 24 hours to leave, and settled in Cologne.  This "you have 24 hours to pack" was a mantra of new rulers everywhere...A California poet Dorothy Skiles was just 2 when Soviets went through Berlin and raped every woman, while men in her family died in Wehrmacht on the Eastern front. She gave copies of my poems about war experiences of my extended family to her sons and grandsons, offspring of German Wehrmacht soldiers. We should all know and learn from the past. 

Polish Diaspora in the world. Dark red: over 10 million, red, over 1 million, dark pink: over 100 thounsand, light pink: over 10 thousand. Wikimedia Commons.

The Polish refugee camps everywhere were clean, tidy, well organized and taken care of. Poles immediately formed Polish schools, each little barrack had a veggie garden and a flower garden, there were social groups, dance groups, theater groups, choirs, and such. Churches as well, they were mostly Catholics in these camps. I want to publish Hanka Ordonowna  memoirs in English translation, amazing stories. Alas, she died in Beirut, was too sick after the gulag camps in Siberia and never fully recovered.

Eugeniusz Bodo, actor, Wikimedia commons.

Another famous actor Eugeniusz Bodo died in the Soviet gulag. But an amazing painter Julian Stanczak survived, though lost the use of his right hand, paralyzed after beating in the camp. He became a painter instead of a cellist that he wanted to be. He learned to draw with left hand in a camp in Uganda, then came to the U.S. He was a very well known Op-Art painter in the mid-West. Died in 2017. 

Eugeniusz Bodo, prisoner in Soviet gulag, Wikimedia commons

War is a beast, so we should be all against all wars, and favor peace, and help others. In recent wars, Poles took in refugees from the Ukraine, I sent money to a friend who took in a mother with daughter to his small apartment, where he lived with his wife and baby. His grandfather was also kicked out of the Ukraine, maybe that woman was an offspring of the perpetrators? Who knows, she or her child were not guilty, and the best way to stop wars is by forgiveness and generosity. 

Julian Stanczak in 2013 with one of his paintings, Wikimedia Commons

If everyone did as they should, and followed the example of the "Good Maharajah" the world would have been so much better. But then, the survivors and refugees should have behaved like Poles did in those camps, work, be grateful, and build a new, peaceful world. Stanczak,  Cybulski, Vars, and other immigrants to America have done it in the New World. They successfully created new identities for themselves and contributed to the culture of their new country. 

Now, that so many global agencies and corporations seek to destroy "nation-states" and erase or cancel the multitude of distinct identities - linguistic and cultural - of nations around the world, it is even more important to remember and support cultural diversity of these nations. In my case, it means remembering the achievements, resilience, and honor of the Polish nation. 

Polish Americans have two Independence Days to celebrate, two languages to learn, two national anthems to sing. Not 195 Independence Days of all the world's countries. Not all 160+ languages, cultures, and traditions of all the world's residents. It is impossible to open borders and accept as equal all the different nationalities without creating for them a standard and a model to accept. Here, the language is English, the Independence Day is on 4 July, the Pledge of Allegiance defines "one nation" - that all the newcomers belong to. All the Displaced Persons of Stanczak's generation or Solidarity-era emigres of my generation, are free in the U.S. to learn Polish and study Polish history and culture. All are free in our "land of the free" where we do not forget our roots, while becoming Americans of double identities. 

More on Poland's Independence and patriotism of Poles:

I think it would be best to finish this story with a positive poem that fits the theme of Thanksgiving: 

LIKE GRAPES ON A VINE

   —we grow and grow. 

Nourished by gold light 

and sapphire water, 

we become sweeter as we age. 

Last traces of bitterness 

and resentment dissolve

 into forgiveness.

 

Yes, it was a long road.

Yes, it was hard.

But we are here.

Grapes on the vine.

 

I’m kind to myself, kind to others, 

kind to the world. I listen.

 

All grains of sand on the beach, 

all dancing droplets in the ocean,

the salty mist on my lips sing 

the song of creation. Such a joy to be. 


Present. Attentive—

to the sparkling pathway 

of sunlight leading beyond the horizon— 

to the relentless rhythm of the waves 

crushing all worry into smithereens.

 

Out flows my pain.

Out goes my sorrow.

In flows my peace.

In comes my gladness.

 

Like the ripening grapes on the vine 

we become sweeter as we age.




(c) Maja Trochimczyk, published in "Crystal Fire: Poems of Joy and Wisdom" anthology in 2022






Tuesday, August 14, 2018

From 13 Polish Psalms by Alexander Janta Polczynski (vol. 9, no. 6)


Written in 1944 in a German prison camp and in a French military hospital, the 13 Psalms by Aleksander Janta Polczynski express the depths of pain and sorrow of Poles attacked by Germans and killed, killed, killed, while fighting for freedom. In August, Poland remembers the Warsaw Uprising that started on August 1, 1944, and ended on October 3, 1944. There are two museums dedicated to the Uprising in Warsaw, and the whole city stops for a minute to commemorate its commencement. Over 250,000 civilians were killed, and the city entirely emptied of residents and systematically destroyed, transformed into a sea of ruins by furious Germans, who could not forgive Poles their foolish bravery.  In September we commemorate the beginning of the war on September 1,1939 and the fall of the country on September 17, 1939 when Soviet troops came from the East to help Germans conquer the Polish nation and take apart its land. So this is a good time to read some of the 13 Psalms while listening to Chopin.

LISTEN:  Chopin's "Revolutionary Etude" Op 10, No. 12 by Evgeny Kissin.



Alexander (Aleksander Stanisław) Janta-Połczyński  was a veteran, playwright, historian, poet, journalist, and collector of rare books. Born on December 11, 1908, Poznań, Poland, he died on August 19, 1974, on Long Island, NY, but lived in many other cities (Paris, London, New York).  He studied Polish literature in Poznan, and became a second lieutenant in Polish Cavalry in late 1920s. He went to study in Paris, but did not complete his studies at the was in Paris when the war broke out, so he fought as a member of the French army, mostly serving in communications division. He was imprisoned by Germans, and escaped in 1942, to join the French Resistance and go to England. He became a member of the Polish Army Second Corps there, and participated in the campaigns mostly working in communications.  For his war efforts, he received Krzyz Walecznych and Croix de guerre.

In 1944 he was sent to the U.S. to spread information about the Polish war effort and worked in the Polish Information Center. After the war ended, he settled in New York and worked for the Kosciuszko Foundation. In 1948 published a report from a travel to communist Poland that made him many enemies. Since 1954 he was the president of the American Council of Polish Culture Clubs, and since 1960 he owned a bookstore dedicated to Slavica. He was also a board member of the Polish Institute of Arts and Sciences of America.

His articles appeared in emigre press: „Dziennik Polski, Dziennik Żołnierza”, „Wiadomości”, „Kultura”, „Związkowie”. Since 1960s he collaborated with the Polish division of Radio Free Europe. In 1972 he visited Poland again. He was very prolific as a writer, poet, playwright, collaborating with the Paris journal Kultura edited by Count Giedroyc, and with the emigre publishing houses in London. His last book, a history of Polish American music was finished posthumously by friends and published by the Kosciuszko Foundation in New York. 

LISTEN: Chopin's Etude Op. 25, No. 11, "Winter Wind" - by Evgeny Kissin



13 Psalmow Polskich / 13 Polish Psalms appeared in London in 1944, but the poems were written earlier, during Janta's imprisonment and his activities in the French Resistance. Organized in a cycle from "Psalm of Verdict Fulfilled" to "Psalm of Redemption" and "Psalm of Home Coming" these stark, dramatic poems express the shattered worldview of a survivor of war, someone who lost all he loved, someone who grieved and tried to make sense of the horrible reality.

The Psalms were translated into English by Sophie Ilinska, using an traditional religious form of language with "thou" and "thine."  In the reprints below, these are converted into "you" and "yours" more in keeping with modern sensitivity. 

The Psalms' titles are as follows:
1. Psalm of Verdict Fulfilled
2. Psalm of Defeat
3. Psalm of Revolt
4. Psalm of Terrible Disappointments
5. Psalm of Captivity
6. Psalm of War
7. Psalm of Our Destiny
8. Psalm of Mourning
9. Psalm of Daily Longing
10. Psalm of Love of the Land
11. Psalm of Warning
12. Psalm of Redemption
13. Psalm of Home Coming

LISTEN: Chopin's Sonata in B flat Minor, Op. 35 (with the Funeral March) by Yundi Li




PSALM OF TERRIBLE DISAPPOINTMENTS

1. Our sacrifice was rejected. Is there no place for us among the living?
2. Misfortune has crushed us - we are in misery, and lost.
4. The enemy rules at home, foreign masters trample theland'; what is the use of a home to exiles? What is the use of a land they call their own?
4. When in other people's courtyards they walk - vagabon - who have nowher to rest their head - liket he homeless ones - 
5. The roof was taken from them, the aquest of may years dstroyed, each small fragment of joy was taken away by the jealous.
6. Who tore way the last crumb of bread from their heands. They will tear out the toungue, they will reach deeper - to the heart they will reach.
7. Our calling sounds empty to the ears of the world, crying for help avails us not.
8. Our friends have forsaken us, given us up to destruction.
9. Dew before dawn will eat out the eyes of may, despair will burn their bowels.
10 We walk in rags of poverty and our oppressors and conquerors rejoice in plenty and safety in the place of our belonging. 
11. They crying of the innocent has spoilt and blurred the vision of justice; 
12. Since heartless and soulless men have thrust down the weaker into a sea of pain;
13. Since the blind rule of force endures, and the stubborn stiff-neckedness of violence.
14. We were people of goodwill, but the ignoble have conquered. 
15. We were the shield of peace - and broken by war it was.
16. We were fain to serve the time to come, but the depth of disaster opened and devoured th most faithful of servants.
17. Weighty words and great hopes rattle like broken pots, and tinkle like iron plates in the wind. 
18. Gladness dwelt within us; now even children know not what it is. 
19. The warmth of prosperity encompassed us: now there is no man colder than us.
20. We waxed strong in honor and glory, but now there is none in greater scorn than us, none as cruelly neglected
2. How then can we continue to live? how can we put our trust in any? 




PSALM OF OUR DESTINY

1. The wailing of the first sirens was the farewell to all our vain hopes
2. And none was spared the horror of that un-earthly call
3. From which life came to be measured with the utmost striving of sacrifice and defeat
4. The muffled drums of explosions gave forth a deadly sound, the heart gave signals of fear
5. And motors of destiny are throbbing, and it will close its wings over the country like over a tomb
6. In the fields as on a drum-skin tightly stretched; the bombs are beating. 
7. The seeds of devastation on the earth look upon us like the craters of the moon- with great eye holes
8. From the frontiers comes deadly rattling, over the furrows of the fields it hastens, deeper - aiming at the art and on the map red serpents of attack creep into the midst of the land
9. Winds bind the landscape in long plats of smoke and the plumes of fires sit on the roots of the city. 
10 . Like locust they came - in multitudes, and no one could count their numbers; 
11. Two waves brought them and they were like the foreheads o two bisons going against each other to fight
12. And hard they knocked their heads and their hooves raised a gruesome tangle of blood-colored dust to the heavens.
14. O senseless element of bestial warfare, what have you left behind you?
14. The fields are trodden down, the walls of the houses torn by the pressure of your madness;
15. With sharp and rocky hardness in place of gardens shine the desert cemeteries - where was rich life and rich harvest.
16. Columns of searching streams of light still prop the red sky, but we know already that it will crash.
17. Waves arise mountain-high against us, as no one knows how to gain favour.
18. Only the curse moves in the emptiness of these days, and the darkness of the first hours of creation. 
19. It has now only the power possessed by grave diggers and those who work destruction
20. And doom will come from the grave over which they dance.
21. And this has been written in the hearts of the faithful who could see, and not in vain prophecies.
2. Let the word come true - from the blood and woe and steadfast will. 



PSALM OF MOURNING

1. Salvation I found among those who are young,and youth was to me the faith and the guiding star
2. The most beautiful apparition of my land, the most precious and durable
3. But you, my friend are no more in the light of tomorrow
4. You have been blown away in the night of times, and I have known suddenly whom I bewail.
5. O my fair-haired and glorious youth, my Promethean one and beloved of the gods.
6. They have appraised your passion, because the love of living throbbed in it loudly;
7. They have loved the splendid and mortal body in you, ready in the arena to fight for laurels and the highest reward of the victor.
8. Your eyes gleamed with the splendor of the whole generation, the unrepeatable charm of those beloved by fate. 
9. As one about to throw a disc so did you upraise your arm to the days to come, you did bracket your slim and well sculptured legs as if about to strive to leap the highest jump. 
10. Steadfast you were and clean of heart, and shame was unknown to you.
11. Death has shown you as an example and wonder to your comrades
12. And to those who followed you, and to me, when my presence is with you, as constant as my thinking. 
13. We sought a place for the best, but the desires of the young were rejected
14. To judge them only by the number of their years, turning away the head from the unbearable freshness of their eyes.
15. Hard it is for young and lovely birds to grow useless wings
16. When they are forbidden to fly, or to enrapture others with the strong infection of their daring
17. The deed has hardly saved you, revolt has freed you, raised you as the leader of hearts, the pilot of our longing. 
18. The fulfillment of dreams - incomplete yet perfect - is yours, for you live, fallen and scared.
19. The first mass of blood-drenched priesthood was ascribed to you
20. How hard to change to only youth of life, the temporal and perfect into the host of the communion with cold eternity.
21. The passionate and empty of illusions went to attack - as if to a tournament, the last joyful dance; 
22. Thus is shown what comes after yielding to the enemy - your utmost forbidding
23. When the capital was drowning and royal monuments with it
24. And he - the one with raised cross - the champion of a lost cause 
24. And that second one where the shadows of conspirators still wander
26. There is no more breath left and life is very precious, and the beauty of being chokes on the steps of departing. 



PSALM OF REDEMPTION

1. Blessed be the brotherhood of all nations.
2. Blessed be eternal and unifying Poland.
3. And the redemption of the world by the spirit of work and creative struggle
4. Blessed be the sacrifice of the pure in heart and those who do not ask here is the name of greatness
5. For they fully know what is the price of glory.
6.The cursed small-heartedness thrusts aside those destined to highest office.
7. The vanquished bore the verdict of defeat with great ceremony, like the glory and dignity of fate.
8. But the labour of turning away destiny is most praise worthy.
9. Human reason and daring deeds are as the reflection of the highest will.
10. The end has come to the simplicity of peoples, to the time of miracles.
11. On conquered devastation they will build to the inhabitants of a common world - a country brighter than the former.
12. Only there is it time for the builders to pray for the peace of the family graves, for the un-extinguished warmth of home-fires.
13. In the great work of building again to fight for a roof over each head for a stone made house
14. For the bed to embrace each one's sleeping and loving.
15. For loving-kindness to the young and starting life.
16. For order and laws of justice, for work, for abundant yield, for freedom.
17. For the grace of honesty between people.
18. For reconciliation and peace in he heart and on the borders of each land.
19. For the rule of the fittest, for the kingdom of the wise.
20. For thought guiding as light guides.
21. For the one who strengthens and elevates the spirit.
22. For only those will lead us to the days to come on whose hand there is no one's blood. 



The following is a list of Janta's publications. Since he was an emigre who lost the ground under his feet and the support of his home country, his name disappeared from the annals of Polish literature. It is high time it is restored to a rightful place. 

1928.  O świcie, Ze wspomnień i tematów myśliwskich. 
1929.  As pik. Seans in three acts (play) and poetry Śmierć białego słonia 
1930. Krzyk w cyrku, volume of poetry
1933. Leśny pies, collection of stories.
1933.  Nonfiction stories, Patrzę na Moskwę, and  W głąb ZSRR
1935 Nonfiction stories in three volumes, Made in Japan, Odkrycie Ameryki and Ziemia jest okrągła as well as volume of poetry Biały pociąg, Wielki wóz 
1936. Nonfiction stories Stolica srebrnej Magii (1936)
1938.  Serce na wschód poetry volume.
1939. Nonfiction stories Na kresach Azji. Indie, Afganistan, Birma, Syjam, Indochiny, Chiny, Mongolia, Formoza, Japonia
1944. Two volumes of poetry, 13 Psalmow and Ściana milczenia  as well as memoirs I Lied to live. A year as a German family slave, published in Polish in 1945  Kłamałem, aby żyć.
1946. Volume of poetry Widzenie wiary 
1949. Nonfiction stories  Wracam z Polski. Warszawa-Wrocław-Kraków-Poznań-Szczecin-Życie-Polityka-Gospodarka-Sztuka-Ludzie i Zagadnienia.
1950. Dzieje pewnego romansu. Suita pod film rysunkowy na dwa głosy i osiem batut (1950) and Młyn w Nadolniku. Pamiętnik pomorski  
1950-1952. Three volumes of satirical poems Pisma przygodne
1954. Satirical poem Bajka o cieniu 
1957. Autobiography Duch niespokojny
1958. Znak tożsamości. Wybór z trzydziestolecia
1960. Short story Wielka gafa księżny Bałaganow
1961. Memoirs Losy i ludzie. Spotkania-przygody-studia, 1930-1960 
1963. Play Linia podziału
1964. Collection of stories Flet i apokalipsa 
1966. Godzina dzikiej kaczki, translations of Japanese poetry
1967. Memoirs Księga podróży, przygód i wspomnień 
1970. Memoirs Pamiętnik indyjski and a volume of translations of American poets, Robert Frost i inni poeci amerykańscy
1971. Essay collection, Przestroga dla wnuków
1972. Essay collections, Po samo dno istnienia  and Przyjemnie zapoznać
1973. Essay collection, Przestrogi drugie and memoirs Nowe odkrycie Ameryki 
1982. A history of Nineteenth Century American-Polish Music completed by Michał Sprusiński and John Głowacki, and published posthumously. 

Three volumes of selected essays and poems edited by Michał Sprusiński appeared in Poland: collections of essays Nic własnego nikomu (1977) and Lustra i reflektory (1982), as well as poems, Śnił mi się krzyk (1979).




Here's a fragment of his obituary in the New York Times: 
https://www.nytimes.com/1974/08/20/archives/alexander-janta-writer-dies-at-66-pole-told-of-his-captivity-by.html

"Mr. Janta was best known here as the author of “I Lied to Live,” published in 1944. As a war correspondent with Polish forces fighting with the French armies in 1940, he changed from a Polish uniform into a French one when the Germans broke through to avoid the harsher treatment awaiting Polish prisoners. Speaking French to cloak his real identity, Mr. Janta was assigned as a farm laborer in Germany and eventually was able to get back to France, where he joined the Polish underground and made his way to London. He was sent to Washington as an assistant to the Polish military attaché.

In 1944, Mr, Janta was wounded in the Netherlands. His second book, “Bound With Two Chains” (1945), told of his experiences as a prisoner. In 1948 he returned for a visit to Poland under the Communist regime and published an account, in Polish, which initially shocked some of his fellow emigres as not painting a sufficiently bleak picture.

He settled in Buffalo in 1949 and for six years he was active in Polish‐American community affairs and served for three years as president of the American Council of Polish Cultural Clubs. In 1955 Mr. Janta came to New York as assistant to the president of the Kosciuszko Foundation, later serving as an executive of the Paderewski Foundation."