My Country <br />Those who say my country means <br />Meadows, flowers and fields of wheat, <br />Hamlets and trenches, must confess <br />These are her feet. <br /> <br />The child is not forced from his mother's arms, <br />The youth at her side will grow <br />While she leans on her eldest son, <br />These are my laws. <br /> <br />My country's brow has not risen here; <br />My flesh's beyond Euphrates and the Flood, <br />My spirit soars above Chaos, <br />I pay rent to the world. <br /> <br />No nation fashioned or saved me, <br />I recall eternity's span: <br />David's key unlocked my lips, <br />Rome called me man. <br /> <br />I fall on the sand to wipe with my hair <br />My country's blood-stained feet, <br />But I know her face and crown <br />Radiant like the sun of suns. <br /> <br />My ancestors have known no other; <br />Her feet with my hand I used to feel; <br />I often kissed the clumsy sandal strap <br />Round her heel. <br /> <br />They needn't teach me where my country lies; <br />Hamlets, trenches and fields of wheat, <br />Flesh and blood and this her scar <br />Are her print, her feet.<br /><br />Cyprian Kamil Norwid<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-country-28/
