Stars in a heavenly rhyme
Gathered here, they stand still
The red brick house shines,
Blushes, on this very hill:
This is Pranie, the cottage lone,
Our sanctuary, our autumn home.

On the wall — antlers, a hop
Is dried and is falling down;
In the windows — autumn in a robe,
So many violins in her gown;
On every string, touched gently
Sorrow talks to sorrow silently.

Outside — meadow in a haze
And the forest — talking pines;
Another day has gone away
Oil lamp on the table shines
And talks with glittery voices
As if they were Chopin’s notes.

And night shines and sings
Till the morning comes fresh
And moon in its silvery rim
As Bach by his organ, plays.
The heavenly concert streams
Through spruces and oak trees —
This is Pranie cottage, leaves fall,
Our autumn concert hall.

Wind rambles on the lake,
Touches spruces and again
An evening comes and makes
Our oil lamps magically shine;
The Pranie cottage, a mystery,
Shining and lamps’ glittery
And moon on every wall:
Our nightly concert hall.

Night wanders in a coach
Above, in the heavens high —
A coachman with eyes closed,
A horse with head in the clouds;
Shadow roams on every wall:
A carriage in a silver cloak;
The Pranie cottage bright,
Our road through the night.

Stars like snowy grain,
They enter, they shine bright
Through every window pane,
In every September night;
Into your tiny mirror, far
Night walks as a gleamy star.


[© English translation 2010-2020, Mikołaj Gałczyński]