Heroic Hymns

Archaeology is something that ends up on a museum shelf. In contrast, history is a living part of the human organism. It lies dormant until the smell of death trips an alarm. Take a look at various early/mid-20th century German, Polish, and Russian marching hymns “then” (with partial lyrics), along with a contemporary performance “now.”

Germany

THEN: Horst Wessel Lied was the national anthem of Germany from 1933 to 1945. Its writer Horst Wessel was marked for death by Communists over his Weimar-era street fights, his face and address featured on posters with slogans “strike the fascists wherever you find them.”

Raise the flag! The ranks tightly closed!
The SA marches with calm, steady step
Comrades shot by the Red Front and reactionaries
March in spirit within our ranks.

Clear the streets for the brown battalions,
Clear the streets for the stormtroopers
Millions are looking upon the swastika full of hope,
The day of freedom and of bread dawns!

NOW: “Wir sind das Volk” (We are the People) came to prominence during 1989 protests against East German government. Now Germany stands at the threshold of heroic possibilities. They have a lot to lose by speaking up and taking to the streets under their present government, but even more to lose by remaining silent.

You’re up there, you cowardly figures
Paid by the enemy, mocked by the people
But once more there will be justice
The people will try you, God’s mercy upon you!

We have been silent for too long
Were much too quiet
After decades of silence
It’s time once more to take the streets!


Poland

THEN: The March of the First Brigade. It was an anthem of the Polish Legions formed during World War I by Józef Piłsudski and is an emblem of the early-20th century struggle for independence.

The Legions — a soldier’s melody
The Legions — a sacrificial pyre
The Legions — a soldier’s gall
The Legions — a dead man’s fate

REFRAIN:
We, the First Brigade, a team of riflemen
We’ve thrown down the gauntlet
And our lives to the bonfire!

They cried that we had gone stark mad
Not believing us, that there’s a way!
Bereft of all, we’ve shed blood
With our dear leader at our side!

For the sake of posterity,
We’ll devote the rest of our days,
To sow honor ‘mid duplicity
Heedless both to blame and praise.

NOW: Written in 1908, Rota (The Oath) became popular across partitioned Poland, its lyrics defiant of the forced Germanization of children of the time. In the video below, it is played and sang during the November 2016 Independence Day march in Warsaw.

We won’t forsake our fathers’ land
We won’t let our speech be buried
We are the Polish nation
From the royal line of Piast
We won’t let the enemy oppress us

So help us God!
So help us God!


Russia

THEN: USSR National Anthem. Composed in 1930, it replaced “The Internationale” as the national anthem to boost the morale of Soviet forces during WWII.

Unbreakable union of freeborn Republics
Great Russia has welded forever to stand
Created in struggle by will of the people
The united and mighty, our Soviet Union!

REFRAIN:
Be glorified our Soviet fatherland, united and free
Built by the people’s mighty hand (in 1944 version)
Fortress, in brotherhood strong
The party of Lenin, the strength of the people

To Communism’s triumph lead us on!

Through tempests the sunlight of freedom shined
And the great Lenin lighted us the way
He raised the people to the righteous cause

Inspired us to labor and to valorous deed.

NOW: As performed by Russian armed forces during the 2016 Victory Day parade, presided over by Vladimir Putin.

Advertisements

The Moral Right To Say “No”

We have not exploited the countries from which these refugees are coming to Europe these days, we have not used their labour force and finally we have not invited them to Europe. We have a full moral right to say No.

From last week’s speech by Jarosław Kaczyński, chairman of Poland’s ruling Law and Justice party. Each nation’s circumstances are different. In Poland’s case, Kaczyński is absolutely right: there is no basis, in a liberal moral system, to hold Poland and several other European nations accountable for their past entanglements with third world peoples.

Does this mean that countries that did have colonies and had invited non-European labor into their homes are morally obligated to take in immigrants? Of course, not. That’s because the liberal moral system is not a legitimate guide for Western nations — it is alien and opportunistic rather than traditional and idealistic.

However, attention to the liberal moral system is indicated because its protean premises and logic are necessary, at the present, to validate any political act undertaken by a Western nation. Whites have always derived legitimacy of action from the alignment of their motives with universal morality; that, in my view, is innate to us and this is why we are seen as the only race that possesses moral agency.

Our universalist thinking predates Christianity, whose tenets, from a secular point of view, are aligned with our a-priori impulses. The modus operandi of Leftism was to subvert our relationship with Christian morality by keeping its language but replacing its spirit with their own unclean breath. The Cultural Marxist usurpation is not historically unique in that regard, except that has turned our own nature against us on an unprecedentedly self-destructive scale.

Kaczyński’s above-quoted words parry one Marxist argument (“Europe must take in refugees because racist debts”) with another (“Poland has no such debts”). His speech effectively rebuffs false-premise dialectic on its own terms.

Every mainstream populist leader in Europe understands that, at the moment, his public address is constrained by the captivity of the Western mind — the West’s voters and national institutions — to the false morality of Marxism. This is also why Viktor Orbán’s speeches include appeals to liberal values such as tolerance and female equality. To win, you play the game by its present rules, until your audience is ready for you to discard present rules.

A genuine Western moral system — as codified by Christian doctrine and in harmony with natural law — was never killed by Jewish Marxism, and never will be as long as we live. Our legitimate morality is submerged under impostor-morality. Listen to your own mute voice and hear your own thoughts:

Even the lowest bug fights to live.

Thou shalt not kill, another or yourself for illegitimate reasons. In other words, no nation is obligated to snuff out her own posterity. Yet this is being enthusiastically carried out, not only in the case of Western Europe’s post-war waves of immigration, but in an even more influential example — the United States and her blacks. From the standpoint of liberal morality, the case for absolute black equality is incontrovertible: slavery and segregation were sins to be atoned for, with damage to be ameliorated. So Americans did that… and created a low-grade beast that begs to be put down.

Language, no less so the moral language behind the hissing for White Genocide, is “words, words, words,” per Shakespeare. And so are any retorts on the political stage. But the soil from which the words spring — either as cultivated roses or as poison ivy — is real. It is time to eradicate (to pull up by the roots) the false morality of Marxism and let legitimate European morality again flourish so we affirm that our nations have the full moral right to say “No” to being replaced, and then to act in accordance with this imperative to live and not die.

To independence!

ovps

“Europe, Rise From Your Knees!”

That’s a line delivered by Poland’s prime minister Beata Szydło in a speech to her country’s Parliament last Wednesday:

We are not going to take part in the madness of the Brussels elite. We want to help people, not the political elites.

Where are you headed Europe? Rise from your knees and from your lethargy or you will be crying over your children every day.

If you can’t see this – if you can’t see that terrorism currently has the potential to hurt every country in Europe, and you think that Poland should not defend itself, you are going hand in hand with those who point this weapon against Europe, against all of us. It needs to be said clearly and directly: This is an attack on Europe, on our culture, on our traditions.

Do we want politicians who claim we have to get used to the attacks, and who describe terrorist attacks as “incidents,” or do we want strong politicians who can see the danger and can fight against it efficiently?

That phrase about culture and traditions is a softball, and as far as all mainstream right-wing European leaders will rhetorically go. But soon enough they or their successors will be talking about our nation, our race, our blood. Why shouldn’t they?

“Europe, rise from your knees.” What does that mean? First, it means that you have a pair of eyes and a free mind, so use them. Wake up. Then, act like you’re in a war, because you are in one. It’s presently one-sided biological warfare in which the enemy’s objective is to breed you out of existence. Genetic-pollution Afroasian immigrants are their ground troops. The anti-White Kulturkampf in the media and schools is their air support. And you, the European man, woman and child anywhere in the world, are the city under siege.

This is not a tangent, but I’ve wondered before: was the 1944 Warsaw Uprising a mistake or a sacrifice with long-term recompense? The 63-day campaign wrested several districts of the capital from the enemy occupant. The Uprising ultimately failed and led to 85% of Warsaw getting razed, including her entire Old Town and all of the city’s landmarks of cultural significance. In addition to insurgent casualties, approximately 200,000 civilians were murdered by German regulars and their SS auxiliaries, who were brought in from as far as Azerbaijan. (German personnel losses included up to 9,000 est. killed, 7,000 missing, 9,000 wounded, and 2,000 captured).

The two-day Wola district massacre, in which 40,000 civilians were executed in house-to-house sweeps, was particularly grisly. From post-war court testimony of Mathias Schenck, a Wehrmacht sapper:

After the door of the building was blown off we saw a daycare-full of small children, around 500; all with small hands in the air. Even [SS-Oberführer Oskar] Dirlewanger’s own people called him a butcher; he ordered to kill them all. The shots were fired, but he requested his men to save the ammo and finish them off by rifle-butts and bayonets. Blood and brain matter flowed in streams down the stairs.

Dirlewanger was a pedophile. Schenck also testified to seeing Dirlewanger rape a girl while holding a knife, and then cutting her open along the entire length of her torso after ejaculating.

There are Oskar Dirlewangers at high levels of Western governments today. This is why my apparent tangent on the Warsaw Uprising is neither a tangent nor irrelevant. You have just seen a snapshot of what a total war of population-replacement looks like. This is what our leaders are planning for us.

Scratch that — they are already doing it. A dozen little English girls were just shredded at the Ariana Grande concert, and they tell you to remain passive as they kick in your door over angry Tweets. A thought experiment: how would a legitimate English government respond to a foreign national mass-murdering its children? Or to a wild African decapitating Lee Rigby in front of his barracks?

The English people, along with most Westerners, are not ruled by legitimate governments. They are ruled by criminals. As long as these Western people, in the privacy of their minds where there is no excuse for being a slave, consider their governments lawful and legitimate, they are kneeling before Oskar Dirlewanger. Getting off your knees would mean, first of all, that you open your eyes and see the evil that is staining your land.

What would be the next step in rising off your knees?

I don’t tell people to do anything I am not doing. But keep reading.

Despite its failure, the 1944 Warsaw Uprising will be famed for as long as sentient mankind lives. The lesson for posterity is that sometimes you have to fight because even if you are beaten, you will inspire your great-grandsons to never die on their knees.

Fabrizio Quattrocchi is more alive now than the walking-dead who shuffle through Western European capitals today:

[He] was hooded when the murderers put a gun to his head. “When his murderers were pointing a pistol at him, this man tried to take off his hood and shouted, ‘Now I’m going to show you how an Italian dies.’ And they killed him.”

Warsaw lost the Uprising but won the war, and she’s rebuilt and alive today.

wars3

Were all those 500 little children in Wola wasted, should the operation have been aborted? Seventy three years later, nationalists are laughing in the EU’s face. The wind at their backs is the spirit of those kids and of the fallen fighters.

So what do you do after you open your eyes? The answer: you lead, you follow, or you get out of the way. That last one is valuable too, as it makes you a passive supporter of those who act. The criminals and perverts embedded in the institutions of our ruling classes will double-down before they’re brought to trial and the imported aliens removed. It will either be clean, or it’s gonna get drawn out and ugly. There is no tenable center any more, you have to pick a side. There are action heroes and rising national movements. So lead something, or join the people who act in service to your nation. Support them; or at the very least, don’t stand in their way.

European, rise from your knees.

awk1

Image source, top: YouTube; above: Renegade Tribune

Physical Bravery And Young Age

Set in medieval France, the historical drama La passion Béatrice opens with the lord of a manor and his teenage son returning from English captivity after a failed military campaign. But the lord’s homecoming is not what everyone had expected. He directs his first of many acts of wrath at his son, whom he torments for having frozen up in battle as the opposing armies charged toward each other. The boy’s older sister comforts him later, cooing “you were too young, not ready for war.”

Fast-forwarding to another war, two weeks ago in Germany a 26-year-old man was forced to watch a stranger rape his girlfriend at knifepoint, as reported:

A refugee from Ghana has been arrested for dragging a young woman from her tent and raping her while she was on a camping holiday with her boyfriend. The young couple […] were approached by a machete-wielding man at about 12.30 am on Sunday last week. The boyfriend was forced to watch as the attacker violated his 23-year-old lover.

It’s not clear what sidelined the boyfriend while his adversary went to the ground with the girl, what impromptu weapons were available to him, and what opportunity he had to attack the rapist. He could have grabbed a rock or a branch. Toss a handful of dirt into the African’s eyes while rushing him. Yell for help from other campers. It’s easy, from the position of a spectator, to construct a different ending to the story and I indulged in imagining the following alternate scenario, which begins with the Ghanian holding a knife to the girl’s throat:

GHANIAN: “Yoo watch fiki-fiki. Yoo moof, I cut your bitch”

GERMAN: “Stab away. She’ll be dead to me with nigger stink on her anyway.”

The German picks up a camping axe and approaches the interloper. The Ghanaian runs. An hour later in the couple’s tent, baby Hans is conceived.

By the way, as cold as it sounds, that fictitious “stab away” reply would not have been out of line even if the hostage were his daughter rather than mere girlfriend. But the young man didn’t follow my ex post facto armchair-quarterback script. Instead, maybe his brain short-circuited at the sight of sharp steel and he watched the action as though from behind a screen. Someone who grew up sheltered from any and all violence will freeze up when faced with an imminent prospect of physical pain. And that incident shows why shielding boys from common schoolyard rough-and-tumble is wrongheaded. I recently shared related thoughts on bullying.

A reader at Vox Popoli who is a retired military officer noted: “German boys always struck me as wimpish until the military got hold of them.” I don’t think his categorization of them as wimpish was intended as a slight. There is in fact something “not ready for war” about well-bred K-selected boys until they are mentored. They require time and guidance to mature. They don’t have that opportunistic aggression-for-aggression’s sake you see in r-selected types.

But at 26, the camper is not young. Certainly not by the traditional standards of infantrymen, with 22 being the average age of the U.S. combat soldier in Vietnam. Youth alone does not explain that instance of cowardice, as history is full of children who performed superhuman acts of heroism. Just three generations ago, boys as young as eleven fought as riflemen against professional and mercenary SS units in the 1944 Warsaw Uprising. Boys and girls even younger than that served as couriers and nurses’ aides under fire.

In fact, youth is typically associated with recklessness, bravery’s wild cousin. In Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum, a middle-aged character has a rueful interior monologue (to my recollection twenty years after reading that book) in which he rationalizes his own reluctance to join the ongoing political riots as being a function of his mature perspective. So has a 26-year-old German today “aged out” of bravery, relative to boys a decade younger than him who comprised Wehrmacht units at the Battle of the Bulge? No; mid-twenties isn’t “mature,” and the VP commenter already answered that question — the military never got a hold of him.

“The military” can be read literally, as well as metaphorically to refer to any communal structure that provides male mentorship to boys. Without that mentoring, they risk ending up as cake batter that failed to rise. An illustration: the mild-mannered young man in Scent of a Woman, who required Al Pacino’s guidance to bring out his innate integrity. The camper’s situation was compounded by the fact that he was not merely abandoned by his fathers, in which case he’d at least been free to figure certain things out by himself. Rather, his environment in a conquered and Allied-occupied Germany was by design hostile to the germ of masculinity within any native boy there. From his first day in Kindergarten, he learned shame and grew up to despise his original sin of existing.

“In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful.” ― C.S. Lewis

A necessary aside: not everyone there is a coward. This is a proper moment to break away from the all-too-familiar accounts of submission because the preponderance of such stories creates a false sense of determinism. We are at war and with each new set of open eyes, the war is becoming less and less one-sided.

Not all is passivity among Europeans. In another incident, also in Germany, a group of Pakistanis sidled up to a family of five on a train and asked the man’s two little girls to sit on their laps. The child-molesting human garbage attacked the father when he told them to leave. They also beat his wife and their thirteen-year-old son, both of whom tried to shield his body. Brave men are out there, in Germany and everywhere else. The father stepped up to do his job and the teenage boy showed more mettle than the camper who is twice his age.

Even the most red-pilled of us is capable of getting angry, and the above news item made me livid. Anger is a sign of life.

Every human group upholds the three ideals listed below for the purpose of turning the wimpish boy into into a man. Those ideals are realized through social institutions, which in the West are being intentionally corrupted by liberalism:

Mentorship — When you visit a martial arts school or a little league baseball practice and you see non-Whites under instruction of White coaches there, you are witnessing a fatal compromise on a Männerbund structure for mentoring boys in the image of their elders. Diversity disrupts harmony. Blacks have their all-back inner-city boxing gyms. Whites have to price-out the diversity with sports like lacrosse and hockey.

Culture — As T.S. Eliot put it, “Culture may even be described simply as that which makes life worth living.” A living spirit whose great books for boys transmit masculine role models and foster a purposeful sense of identity. Culture is home. That’s why they wreck Boy Scouts and blue collar fraternities such as firefighting and construction work by pushing women and diversity on them.

Destiny — A sense of having a past and a future. The kids who fought in the Warsaw Uprising knew that they had a home and a destiny of their own, which they fought to secure for themselves and for me with their young lives. Sure of their righteousness in the inferno of urban warfare, they sang:

We’re the children of Warsaw going into battle
For your every cobblestone, we’ll give our blood
We’re the children of Warsaw going into battle
On your command, we’ll bring wrath to the enemy

Freezing up when an armed rapist grabs your girl is the fruit of political systems whose aim is to destroy White nations and with them, everything that the millennia of Western history have irrepressibly created even through the worst times along the course of our highs and lows. Our key objective in this war, in Germany and everywhere else in the West, is to secure our freedoms of association. You give a damn for, you fight and kill for, you give what you have and you do your best for, and you willingly die no matter your age, for what is yours.

1944b

Image source: Wikipedia. “The Little Insurrectionist,” Warsaw

The Tragedy of Compromise

A nation can be snuffed out though violence or miscegenation, but only if the genocide is complete or they might come back stronger. But can a nation survive a utopia? Huxley pondered the end of history and to my recollection, he did not account for a fissile ruling class or the material goods losing their flavor.

But in the real world, the hard edge of globalism is bruising us hard. Unless you consider the mud invasion utopian. Below is my translation of a poem about the folly of a nobleman who tired to work with the system. That’s a difficult thing to do when the system is implacable and the grievances of your constituents are absolute.

If the war gets hot, what do we fight for? For nothing less than total victory. What is total victory? Securing what’s ours. Reach for more and you are courting downfall. The meek shall…

Aleksander Wielopolski (1803 – 1877) ran Poland’s civil administration within the Russian Empire and to forestall the bloodshed that would result from the growing independence movement, he ordered a conscription of Polish nationalists into twenty-year enlistments in the Tsar’s army. That decision sparked the January 1863 Uprising, the very outcome Wielopolski wanted to avoid.

The original poem is in the YouTube video below under “Show More.” It is written in trochaic meter with an ABAB rhyme scheme.

Margrave Wielopolski

Through Saxon Square, Circassian hundreds gallop
And by the palace, a hundred campfires burn
How do you do it, Your Excellency
That you’re despised on every side?

Lord Margrave, you don’t think in lockstep
So with the Tsar you’re already suspect —
Neither Petersburg nor Moscow will trust
A Pole who has his own plans

Lord Margrave still walks the tightrope
It’s dangerous to walk so high
After all, disaster won’t spare him
Because bad luck has he, who is born here
Your contempt, no one will forgive
We’re superstitious, fervent and teary
And you’re proud, you won’t deign wallow
In the national borscht with us
Why bother splashing logic in our faces?
We did not read Hegel, sire
For us it’s Chopin, peas and cabbage
And from time to time an uprising

Lord Margrave still walks the tightrope
Abyss on the left and abyss on the right
If he avoids death by a countryman’s hand
Then he’ll leave office in disgrace
All that work, Lord Margrave, and for nothing
In vain, the forced conscription
Things will be as they must — business as usual
To battle unarmed, backbreak and welts
Lord Margrave, you won’t change a nation
Here, good sense is rarely used
And the one thing we can do truly well
Is to lose most beautifully in the world

Lord Margrave still walks the tightrope
Though awkwardly and with a wild boar’s posture
And when he falls, he’ll gain only
A traitor’s shame instead of a monument
That you fell, that’s normal Polish fate
In the end, everyone falls off that rope
Only why did you forget, Wielopolski,
That the fall must look good?

– Jerzy Czech (c. 1981)

Cultural Memory

28Sherman regularly posts WWI images on his blog. Some of them connect us with the soldier in the image, other photos show strange inventions as each side was rushing to adapt to the changing technology of the battlefield. I think his aim is to reconnect us with the continuity of our civilization. I came across a good maxim the other day: “In Europe 100 miles is far. In America 100 years is old.”

A cultural amnesia is reinforced by the cacophony of electronic stimuli and shades of mud. Westerners are drowning in sewage and have no idea what to say besides “White people have no culture.” For someone under thirty in the United States, watching a YouTube video with 1980s TV commercials can be dislocating. “Wow, everybody is White and the girls are … how do you say… I’ve never seen this before… is ‘nice’ the word I’m looking for?”

I don’t know much about Dresden beside what I read in Vonnegut’s novel. What do young Germans know about it? Do they even know that something existed before all the bitchy women, the Turks and now the full terror of race-replacement? The teenagers who died in the firebombings… did they ever exist? do they have anything to tell us?

It’s a similar idea with my Warsaw snapshots in the previous post. My blog’s tagline is also an appeal to cultural memory. How can you live any other way when all you know is the way you live now? To somebody who is Eastern European, Communist propaganda reels from the 1940s might connect him with his grandparents’ stories about rabid Party apparatchiks and their unchecked power to ruin lives at every level of society, the blood-curdling 3:00 AM secret police knocks on the door, the mass imprisonments — and the Happy Face of socio-realist art plastered over all of it. But there were also ruins that had to be rebuilt, and they were. The workers were the heroes, whatever they thought about those staged Bricklaying Competitions.

A Westerner will look at scenes from Warsaw as exotic in their particulars but familiar in terms of his undefined hunger. Whether it’s the idyllic video of a stroll of a through 1990s Warsaw I linked to in my previous post, or the bricklayers in 1947 “A Warsaw Day,” he will see a public space that belongs to its rightful people. No war, no tension, no ceding of ground, no foreign faces, no ugly languages, no dissonance, no withdrawal from life. Having seen the past, he’ll find clarity about fighting for peace and his future.

Songs About Warsaw

wa1

Image source: Youtube

The songs I picked span the post-war decades and the videos give you a feel for the city of its respective decade. I translated selected verse lyrics, not the entire songs.

Though 82 years old now, Irena Santor is doing well and still occasionally performs. There is a whimsical other-worldliness in her voice, most so in her 1960s/70s heyday. The title of her early-1990s song Chodź na kawę Warszawo (“Come join me for coffee, Warsaw”) is grammatically constructed as one girlfriend addressing another. There is double entendre in the lyrics, with the capitalized adjectives also being names of Warsaw streets:

Your face is your streets
You wake up Cold like ice
Wolfish and Wild, and Dark like a Tear
I look and sense pain
But as a woman, you’re Fickle
You’re Kind when you want to be
Simple and Beautiful
Honey-filled to the brim
You’re as Bright as the bells of Jasna Street

Lady Pank (pron. like “Lady Punk” in English) is an eighties band. Unlike the bright pop culture of American eighties, Poland’s pop culture from that decade reflected a gloomy political reality. That aesthetic is prominent in Krzyztof Kieslowski’s “Decalogue.” Nineties-era song Stacja Warszawa (“Warsaw Station”) is about the alienation of people who came to the city for work during its post-Communist construction boom.

The faces on the metro are alien
So why bother knowing anyone
All of this is too expensive
Best to keep going and then sleep
Everything would be different
If you were here, I know

The band T.Love’s uptempo Warszawa lovingly catalogs the cold mornings and the scattered empty bottles. There is a sub-genre of poetry, notably William Shakespeare’s sonnet “My Mistresses Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun,” that lists the flaws of one’s beloved as testament to the speaker’s fondness for something that’s imperfect, but is his. As pop songs go, this one does something similar:

When I look into your eyes, as tired as mine
I love this city, so tired like me
Where Hitler and Stalin did what they did
Where springtime breathes in the exhaust

Krakowskie Przedmieście is sun-drenched
Whirling like mist, you come from the gate
And I’m hungry, so hungry
My love, feed me with dreams
The trees and the shrubs bloom
In leafy Żoliborz, fucking Żoliborz
Completely drunk on the river’s waters
I want to scream, I want to roar, I want to sing

Mieczysław Fogg’s career spanned from his first professional performance as an adult in 1928 until his death in 1990. His style recalls the 1930s aesthetic of a lost culture, not the least his aristocratic Kresy accent. Piosenka o mojej Warszawie (“A Song about my Warsaw”), recorded shortly after World War II, shows film footage of pre-war days. The song’s first two verses compare the speaker’s antebellum strolls through the city to the joy of young love. Clouds then gather in the third and final verse:

I know that you’re not yourself today
That you survived bloody days
That despair and pain crush you
That I have to cry with you
But such, as you live in my memory
I’ll restore with my blood
And believe me, Warsaw, beside my song and tears
I am ready to give you my life.

With its simple didactic lyrics and cheerful melody, the song “Warszawski dzień (“A Warsaw Day”) is an example of socio-realist art that was mandatory during the 1945 – 1954 Stalinist era. Warsaw was almost completely razed after the 1944 general uprising, including its historic Old Town and the King Sigismund column at the top of this post, and it had a quarter of its civilian population murdered. Seeing color footage of the city being rebuilt in this vintage Communist propaganda reel can bring a tear to your eye:

The streets were dark, the night was black.
A flame of hope lit the undergrounds,
Then it resurrected, and it awakened
The light over the ruins is once more in force.

Over the Vistula River, a new day dawns
It speeds with the trams, this Warsaw day!
Back to the schools
Back to the offices
Rushes to construction scaffoldings, this Warsaw day!

Here is English composer Richard Addinsell’s “Warsaw Concerto,” written in 1941. The quiet piano solos in this piece recall Frederic Chopin’s Nocturnes: