Skip to main content

All About Mary

Polish Poems

"In Poland, honoring the Holy Mother in a most special way is an integral part of life throughout the entire country. Her picture is seen in every Polish hut, in churches, in small shops, and in magnificent chambers. Flowers and votives—perhaps a simple hand-made handkerchief or an expensive diamond—decorate the Holy Mother's pictures. Some votives—for instance, crutches left in loving thanks for a miraculous cure—are displayed in a special room near her chapels. She looks on all of these offerings with kind and loving eyes.

Throughout Polish history, thousands of legends have been told about the Holy Mother, and she has become known by hundreds of titles, such as Mother of Orphans, of the Poor, of the Military, of Students, of Consolation, of Good Counsel, of Grace, of the Scapular, of Hope, of Enduring Listening. In addition, the Polish people address the Holy Mother with names such as Counselor of the Sorrowful, Support of the Faithful, Suffering Madonna, Guardian of Faith, Melancholy Benefactress, and Victorious Holy Mother. Her titles arise from legend and historical situations that reflect the needs of Poles at particular times in history. When her people call on her faith and hope, she never fails to come to their aid. It is her close presence that sustains and uplifts the Polish people in times of suffering and sorrow as well as in times of joy." – John Paul II, Pope (d. 4/2/2005)


Polish Poems by Title

– The following poems have been translated from Polish to English by Danuta Romanowska 

Fantasia of the People
We (for You)
When a Child Is Sick
Loving and Good Mother
At Supper
Ave Maria
Impression of Pilgrim Fragment 1858
Fourth Anniversary of Pope John II's Death
Mother of the Roadside Chapels
Prayer for the Successful Election of the Pope
Song IV
Holy Mother of Czestochowa
Spring from the Cycle "Immaculata"
Good and Merciful Mother
Ostra Brama
Holy Mother of the Military
Mary! You Are Our Mother
Jasna Gora Oasis
Jasna Gora Walls
They Do Not Have Wine
Our Father
The Parable of the Father
Mother's Hand
Calm Us
Stories from Old Figures
To the Immaculate
Daily Visitation
Offer to God
God Visit the Earth
Step in to My Life
Queen of May
Tune to God
Hope of Dawn
Written for the Visit of John Paul II to Zywiecczyzna...
Holy Mary, Mother of Sorrows
Ostra Brama Madonna
You Are Everything, Mary
My Request
Polish Christmas Poem
In Front of Jesus' Manger
Holiday Greeting
War Time Lullaby
Christ's Birth
Hymn to the Most Holy Mother
Fragment of Litany
Under Your Protection
My Mother's Black Rosary
Ludzmierz Bell
I Believed
Sounds of the World
Pilgrimage to the Holy Mother
Only the Word
To the Polish Pine
Wanderer's Litany
Let Us Sit Together
Mother of John Paul II
Praying Virgin
De Profundis of Maximilian Kolbe
My Mother
To Mother of God Gromnicznej
Mother's Eyes
Be My LightHouse
River Boat
Mother's Face
Listening in Love
Ave Maria
Entreaty for Your Eyes
Mother of the Living
United with You
A Short Act of Devotion to the Mother of God...
You Cried, Mother
Permit Me to Praise You, Most Holy Lady
Mother of the Roadside Chapels

Fantasia of the People

You are the sorceress.

You have eyes that look into heaven and across Earth
and see everything.

You have lips from which songs bloom, simple as
the wild flowers and fresh as spring.

You have a mouth from which, as from a rainbow
full of colors, emerges a beautiful story
such as a poet's soul composed.

You have tears as heavy as pearls and a smile
like the butterflies.

You have the naivete of a child and the wisdom of a scientist.

You are blessed since you see, hear, and understand more
than any human mind can absorb
and you have the faith of a little one.

Fantasia, with angelic wings you managed to be at the Everlasting throne to see what no
one ever saw and to tell the people about heavenly miracles.

You saw Holy Mother in the crown of seven stars and with the lark at her foot to sing for her.

Fantasia of the People, tell the unending songs so the souls
can forget the dark moments of their daily lives.

Fantasia of the People, open your treasury.

– Marian Gawalewicz



With your name on their lips, the elderly die.

With your name on their lips, soldiers fall.
With your name on their lips, exiles expire.
With your name, the condemned bid farewell
to the brightness of the sun,
Your victorious name is like a seal on their lips!
Mary! Pray for us! MOTHER!

– Wojciech Bak


Z twym imieniem na ustach starcy umierali.
Z twym imieniem na ustach zolnierze padali.
Z twym imieniem na ustach wygnaricy konali.
Z twym imieniem skazancy blask slonca zegnali,
Zwyciezcom imie twojejak pieczec na wargach!
Mario! Modl sie za nami! Matko!

– Wojciech Bak


We (for You)

Only a song - marches with our fingers through the rosary
Flame of the olive lamp - and the litany on Sunday morning
Only the roll call - the Hejnal during the opening for the Unveiling
Medals and pictures from the pilgrim-stands for the Assumption
Only lilacs during May Days with requests and thanksgiving
And the poetry from old Polish prayer books
YOU (for Us)
YOU are the Star of the Sea during storms
- during thunder - during homelessness
With the help of angels with Polish faces and wings
YOU light the candles for GROMNICZNA
during winter storms and heavy frost
Surrounded by hungry wolves
YOU give the miraculous cures attested to by thousands of Votives
Canes from the blind - pieces of bullets from the hearts
YOU are the swallow and rainbow after the storm
The flower and butterfly m the patriotic stained glass windows
Stars and sun nse over the Polish Millennium
And Yourself in the picture frames
YOU and Your Son from Bethlehem and from Golgotha
You are the Anchor of Hope during brutal Occupation nights
And the Shield under the sleepy boy after the Resistance
YOU, the Immaculata for the KNIGHT from Oswiecim dressed in stripes
YOU gave us and the world the WHITE PILGRIM POPE
from the country of the Polish people
Queen of the Millennium of the humble nation
Which loves you and honors YOU
Mother of Forgiveness and Understanding - PRAY FOR US

Maciej Jozef Kononowicz
Krolowo Tysiaclecia
Niepokornego Naredu
Ktory Cie kocha i slawi,
0, Matko Przebaczenia,
Matko Porozumienia,
Modl sie za nami!

– Maciej Jozef Kononowicz


When a Child Is Sick

When a Child Is Sick

When in some home somewhere,
a child is sick with fever, cough,
And looks as if it will not be healthy,
When on the chair the night nurse falls asleep,
Who slips down as a bright cloud through the wall,
with coat rustling on the carpet?
Who comes out of the frame and bends over the sick?
Who changes the compress and corrects the pillow?
It is the Lady of Czestochowa - my Dear, it is our Holy Mother.

– Kazimiera Illakowiczowna



It is such a Holy Mother
Who does not have a chapel
She cannot stay at one place
Went through Katyn
Walked through despair
Meeting the unfaithful
Not crying

Night leads to a star
Sorrow leads to a white birch
Love brings the pure lamb
Peace - loneliness
Faith - all the time wanting to ask
But the throat is dried up. God is silence
Silence is necessary.

– Father Jan Twardowski


Loving and Good Mother

Czestochowa, Lourdes, Fatima
regardless of how I will call you
always the same in motherhood.
Loving and Good Mother
You give butterflies above the meadow
birds in the high clouds
dew drops on the rose petals
happiness during the day and quiet nights.
For you the nightingale in the lilac shrub sings psalms
fish dance in the stream
the echo in the cliff carries your name far away
when the waterfall calls for prayer.
But I, simple singer in the chorus,
For your glory - together with all the world
Carry a poem for You -
like a bouquet of herbs from the August meadow.

– Jerzy Tawlowicz



The Archangel Gabriel flies very' lightly,

Knocks at the tower's silent bells,
With wings touches the dome of the street lights,
And kisses the forest which snoozes in the valley
So that it rustles with morning prayers.

Daybreak looks to the windows and runs
To open places for the sun.
The flowerbed from the greens blooms like roses,
The cross with flame jets to heaven
By thanksgiving prayers
Of those who raise the church for the Queen of Peace.

And the sons of Assist come to the throne of Mary,
Conducting the pilgrims
Who carry the vows of their great-grandfathers,
But Martial Law closes the gates.
The last Preface the priest sang with tears,
The Polish people knelt under the closed gate,
And with bloody clenched fists called out,
"To Mother, let us go - To Mother!"
But the obedient guard upheld the order
Until God tore the seal!

The Archangel in the morning raises the baton,
The chords of the bells sound,
People from every place are coming,
The deaf clock APPOINTS AGAIN -

– Maria Zientara-Malewska


At Supper

Twelve sat there

around the simple table
without decorative napkins
or a china dinner set
the aroma of broken bread
filled their nostrils
the wine in the tumblers
was like blood - red, clear
and He washed their feet
full of great love
which could not fit
in the narrow room
-- only the crickets behind the window
became silent in amazement
that it is so simple.

– Krystyna Zajac



It was so long ago.
but maybe just yesterday,
when you heard
the angel's words
and by your consent
hastened the fullness of time
for God's revelation
to fulfill the expectation
of generations.

It was so long ago.
but maybe just yesterday,
when you went by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost
to visit Elizabeth
singing the Magnificat.

It was so long ago,
but maybe just yesterday,
when in the quiet calm
the listening Cosmos
adored the newborn
GOD-HUMAN in the manger.

It was so long ago,
but maybe just yesterday,
when the words of Simeon
showed you the plan of Salvation
and the shadow of the Cross
shaded a Mother's hope.

It was so long ago,
but maybe just yesterday,
when Your Son
departed from home irrevocably
to give testimony of the Truth
by life and death on the gallows of the Cross
under which you stood. Mother,
suffering quietly.

It was so long ago,
but maybe just yesterday,
when the light of the Resurrection
dried out your tears
and you saw Him go
to the Father
and your joy
became united with Eternity.

Millions of hearts,
yesterday and today - believe
that He took you to Himself
to be the fulfillment of prayers
implored of the Omnipotent.

– Janina Woynarowska


Ave Maria

Gentle hills - women at the well - pigeons flying around white houses.

Gabriel flew slowly with difficulties:
He must announce the news
So unexpected
That he felt himself bend under such a weight
Shivering, he did not know
If a woman made of body and blood would understand.

Messengers who deliver unexpected news
Are also as taken by surprise as those
Who receive it.

Flying low above the street
He was very happy that no one recognized him.
Gabriel was noticed only by himself
And a slender girl
Who with quiet movement pushed the hair from her forehead
When he approached her.
They talked to each other in simple language,
And if simple was their language,
So much more complicated was their secret.

Great was the happiness
When the girl with the forehead of azure
Without protest accepted the news
And bent with humility the palms other hands
On which rested the Human balance.

The angel quickly flew away.
Before him was a long way.
He wanted before the night started
To return to his home
Built from the first page of Evangelium.

Passing the well, he plunged in his feet,
Hot from the flight.

– Roman Brandstaetter

Ave Maria

Wzgórza łagodne jak wersety Ewangelii,
Niewiasty u studni

I szkiane niebo, przez które widać
Gołebia, unoszącego się
Ponad domami białymi
Jak sad aniołów.
Gabriel leciał powoli i z trudem,
Bo miał zwiastować nowinę
Tak nieoczekiwaną,
Że uginal się pod jej ciężarem.
Drzał, nie wiedząc,
Czy ją zrozumie kobieta z krwi i ciała.
Posłańcy, którzy przynoszą nieoczekiwaną wieść,
Są równie zaskoczeni,
Jak ci, którzy ją otrzymują.

Lecąc nisko nad ulicami,
Był bardzo rad,
Że go nie spostrzegli ludzie,
Którzy zmożeni upałem
I oddzieleni od rzeczywistości
Ścianą snu,
Leżeli na chodnikach
I na progach domów.

Gabriel był widziany tyiko dia samego siebie
I smagłej Dzieweczki,
Która cichym ruchem dłoni
Odgarnęła z czoła ciemne włosy,
Gdy zbliżając się do Niej,
Musnął nieostrożnie skrzydłami
Jej cień.
Mówili z sobą zwyczajną mową,
A im prostsze były ich słowa, a.
Tym bardziej zawiła była ich tajemnica.

Wielka była radość,
Gdy Dzieweczka
O czole z błękitu,
O spojrzeniu utkanym z ptaszęcych świergotów
Bez sprzeciwu przyjęła nowinę
I pochyliłe w pokorze dłonie,
Na których spoczęła równowaga człowieka.

Anioł uniósł się w powietrze
I szybko się oddalił,
Bo miał przed sobą długą drogę,
Prowadzącą obok studni i śpiących ludzi,
A chciał jeszcze przed zapadnięciem nocy
Zdążyć z powrotem do swojego domu,
Zbudowanego z pierwszych kart

Mijając studnię,
Zanurzył w niej swoje stopy,
Gorące od lotu.

– Roman Brandstaetter


Impression of Pilgrim Fragment 1858

Heart - why do you beat so fast in your breast?

Why is the blood hot in your veins?
Oh, the heart is a prophet,
guessing from a distance how many sensations are waiting for me.

On the hill is a white wall with a church gate.
Your heart guessed:
who from this wall distributed graces of glory.
Here you will receive the faith -
If you still remember the prayers that your mother taught you.

COME! PRAY! From here NO ONE ever departs saddened.
LISTEN! Do you hear the song?
Through all the earth the name of MARY is thundered!
From all sides of the earth, MARY's name is proclaimed!

Bells are ringing. The priest sprinkles everyone with holy water
and, with song, the caravan enters the church.
Heartbreak - the feeling is so strong.
In the chapel, the MOTHER OF COMPASSION
from the altar smiles a welcome to everyone.
The crowds kneel down in mysterious silence;
some have guilt for their offenses.
Tears reduced, some happy voices:
"Now, Holy Father, PEACE I have in my last days
since I have seen the Holy Mother's face."
Holy Mother in jeweled dress and silver crown
Listens to her children's grievances - and
intercedes to the LORD.
During the whispers of prayers, our MEDIATRIX proclaims the verdict -
Regained is FAITH and HOPE!
The priest starts the morning prayers with music,
And with music and prayers, the voices of the people

From your feet at JASNA GORA, I returned so happy, full of the Holly Spirit,
Like a bird to my country.
Also, I recall my ancestors who from centuries past
paid their tribute to YOU, Holy Mother.

– Wradystaw Syrokomla


Fourth Anniversary of Pope John II's Death

Already four years passed — since you changed your address.

How very much we miss you,
Although we know you are always with us - still we search for you
We look through the largest telescope, and we discover
A mountaineer's hat is on your head.
Immediately the mountaineer's music was added.

If someone near you takes a fancy to your hat At once we will send another by special delivery.


Mother of the Roadside Chapels

Someone gave you a smile

which treats your face,
blue in the pupils of your eyes,
and the color of flax in your hair,
as if you flew through the air
lashed by rain
bathed in the sun
dried out by the wind
surrounded by stars in the night.
Mother of the roadside chapels,
stared at from every human side,
together with the songs of birds
receive the quiet call,

– Krzysztof Milczarek


Ktoś nadał Ci uśmiech
który gości na twarzy
błękitne źrenice
w oczodoły wepchnięte
i w kolorze lnu włosy
jakbyś płynęła w powietrzu
smagana deszczem
skąpana w słońcu
osuszona wiatrem
nocą odziana blaskiem gwiazd
Matko z przydrożnej kapliczki
wpatrzona w każdą ludzką stroną
wraz ze śpiewem ptaków
przyjmij ciche wołanie
pod Twoją obronę

– Krzysztof Milczarek


Prayer for the Successful Election of the Pope

For the future centuries of coming fame
Turn, Queen of the Polish Crown, the hearts of electors,
Add golden beams to the holy Conclave.

Give to the Cardinals inspiration and character
So that the new Pope will embrace the helm
To guide the world which is so weak.

Mary, Star of Peter's boat,
In you is the only hope
That the Vatican will be a new spring world
Which is approaching.

About this, dear Queen, who comes to the depth of hearts,
The new Papacy, like the oak, will spread to all parts of the world
Next to the Polish oak.

– Konstanty Ildefons Galczynski

Prayer for the Successful Election of the Pope

Na przyszłych wieków nadchodzącą sławę
zwróć, o Królowo tej polskiej Korony,
serca wyborców, spuść promień złocony
w święte conclave.

Daj kardynałom natchnienia i hartu,
ażeby nowy papież mocniej jeszcze
ścisnął ster świata, co świta w boleści
na zgubę czartu.

Maryjo, gwiazdo dla Piotrowej łodzi,
w Tobie jedynie i trud, i zapłata,
uczyń Watykan nową wiosną świata,
który nadchodzi!

O to, Królowo, schodząc w serca głębię,
błagam, słuchając, co mówi duch Boży:
nowe papiestwo jak dąb się rozłoży
przy polskim dębie. [1939]

– Konstanty Ildefons Galczynski


Song IV

O, be merciful and for a short time
Cover me with your hands, like a bird without feathers!
Let me nourish myself with a morsel of truth,
Let it be that I finish my prayers,
Let the planted flower grow on the tomb
Let it be that I hear how the heart strikes
Let me fly through the circle of the sun. . .
You can wait! You are Eternal!

– Maria Konopnicka

Pieśń IV

O, bądź miłościw, i na matą chwilę
Zakryj mnie dłonią, jak ptaka bez pierza!
Niech odrobiną prawdy się posilę,
Niechaj dokończę mojego pacierza,
Niech kwiat zasiany wzejdzie na mogile,
Niechaj posłucham, jak serce uderza,
Niechaj lot wezmę przez okrąg słoneczny...
Ty możesz czekać! Ty, ty jesteś wieczny!

– Maria Konopnicka


Holy Mother of Czestochowa

Holy Mother of Czestochowa, dressed in pearls,
All in silver and diamonds,
Whose heavy crown is supported by angels,
Pray for us.

Oh, You, whose picture is seen in every Polish hut,
In the church, in small shops, in magnificent chambers,
In the hand of the dying, above a child's cradle,
Under whose picture, through days and nights
A light shines continually,
In whom everyone believes, even those who believe in nothing,
You, who sees everyone of us through your beautiful eyes.
Holy Mother of Czestochowa, have mercy on us.

Give soldiers who sing, marching in rows,
Coolness and rain in the desert, but fire in the snow.
Let those who are flying be invisible
And may those who are on the sea return to their countries.
May everyone who is wounded find clean dressings
And from everyone who is lost may a letter come.
Take all those who suffer and look in your direction,
Holy Mother of Czestochowa, under your protection.

Let the wires loosen and the bricks burst
And above Poland raise your hand
So the last execution is stopped and the prisons are opened.
Many times the deluge covered us and blood flowed like a river,
But Czestochowa stands like a rock.
You were also wounded by the pagan,
But you continually intercede for us. Most Holy Mother.
If all of us will return to our native country,
We will hear the trumpeter in the Mariacki tower,
LWOW and WILNO will hear the steps of Polish soldiers.
And, as in the golden days of our childhood, we will listen
To the chimes which eternally praise you.
Holy Mother of Czestochowa, do not abandon us.

– Jan Lechon


Spring from the Cycle "Immaculata"

Flow out from the light of the morning rainbow,
Covered by fog, like a light garment,
Daughter of Earth -- Immaculata...
Before her the Earth in prayer is kneeling,
Towards her, homeless orphans' hands
Shine in morning prayer and rainbow ...
Flow out, covered in light fog,
Flow clean -- through the lowland earth,
Between complaints, sadness, and misfortunes...
Here a sign wakes up the fertile earth,
There beauty -- birds are quiet..
Flow... flow through the lowland earth,
in a virginal, luminous aureole,
over unfortunate orphans bursting into tears,
Over poor cottages throw happiness,
With light, wipe up the tears of the orphans
After her crossing, pains turn pale,
For she grieves for the ill-fated.
Shine... flow by the stars, through the air...
After her the breeze rustles and hums,
To her voices flow every day in the morning:

– Wladyslaw Orkan


Good and Merciful Mother

Czestochowa -- Wilenska
Fatima -- Lourdes
However I call you
Always in motherhood you are the same
Good and Merciful Mother
You give the butterfly on the meadow
And the birds in the high clouds
Tears of dew on the petals of the roses
Happy days and nights of heavy stars
To you the nightingales in the lilac trees sing the psalms
And the trout in the silver streams dance
The echo from the rocks carries your name far
When the waterfall rings for prayer
And I -- shy singer in the chorus
For your glory, Mother, in hymns for the rest of the earth
Carry the poem
Like a bouquet of herbs from the September meadow


Ostra Brama

Holy Mother, pray that we may have faith
Pray that our faith will be strong and persistent
0 Holy Mother who shines in Ostra Brama
Do not allow our hearts to break while suffering in the prisons, in the camps
Help everyone when we weaken - TO STAY STRONG
Only one thought is explicit in ourselves - HOLY MOTHER OF OSTRA BRAMA
You came to us - to care for the blows on our faces imposed
by the hands of the enemy
For our defenseless bodies which took the bullets and bayonet edges -
Effect for us only one prayer -
Give us strength and persistence

Mother who shines in Ostra Brama

– Krystyna Krahelska


Modl sie o wiare dla nas, o moc, o wytrwanie
Najswietsza Panno, ktora w Ostrej swiecisz Bramie!
Nie daj kruszyc sie sercom naszym w mece
Po wiezieniach, po obozach, po kazniach,
Pomoz wszystkim slabnacym stac prosto
I tresc jedna widziec w sobie wyraznie
Matko Boska Ostrobramska, Panienko Najslodsza!
Przyszlo nam znosic uderzenia w twarz dlonia wroga, dlonia obca,
W bezbronne piersi brac kule i nagich bagnetow ostrza,
Speln jedna jedyna nasza wspolna, najglebsza modlitwe
Daj nam wytrwac!

– Krvstvna Krahciska (1914-1944)


Holy Mother of the Military

Common is the picture - like a thousand copies
printed in black on yellow paper,
but through long roads and across many borders
clasped to his heart and held sincerely.
Holy Mother of the Military, trustful and exiles,
Long ago stepped out of the frame and entered the ranks;
Now, she is with us every day and warms us with her smile
when the wind lashes and the snow bums.
Already, she is not a material painting in a picture;
She is herself- which, yet, you will not see daily.
But when you are sad, when melancholy tears you apart,
when inactivity numbs you, then she shines like a torch.
And then you will see her, maybe on a plane,
maybe on a submarine, maybe in front of a machine gun;
when you glance at a tank and at a cannon,
And clouds of morning prayers illuminate the ground.
Then you are sure that from your picture
descended the Holy Mother of Czestochowa
and walked among the soldiers.
Holy Mother of the Military!
Who led us through roads impossible to cross,
Through countries, through borders, green and bloody,
Through battlefields where ran rivers of death,
Holy Mother of the Military!
Not for our fame,
But for our strong faith and for the hardships of our lives,
Give freedom to Poland!

– Wawrzyniec Czeresniewski

Holy Mother of the Military

Zwvczajny to obrazek, jak tysiace kopn,
Drukowany czermq na zzolklym papierzc,
Jeno ze take} drogq i przez tyie granic
Tulilo si(? don serce i garnelo szczerze.
Matka Boska Zolnierska, ufna i tu}acza,
Dawno wyszta z obrazka, wstapila w szeregi,
Teraz z nami na co dzien, i grzeje usmiechem,
Czy wichry nas smagaja, czy tez palq snicgi.
Juz nie jest marcrialn\Tn obrazkiem, malunkiem,
Jest Soba, ktorej jednak nie zobaczysz co dnia.
Tak tyiko kicdys smutny, gdy ci? rwie tesknota,
Gdy bezczynnosc odurza— swieci jak pochodnia.
I wtedy juz Jq widzisz, czy na samolocie,
Czy na lodzi podwodnej, czy przy cekaemie,
Na czolgu i na dziale, kiedy okiem rzucisz,
A obloki jutrzni oswietlaja ziemie.
I wowczas jcstes pewien, ze z twego obrazka
Srod zo^nierzy zeszia Matka Czestochowska.
Bija'dzwony, gra hejnal — wysoko1— Mariacki," ^
.Wokolo sie kolysze zboz lanai-ni Polska.
Matko Boska Zolnierska!
Cos nas prowadzila
Przez drogi, niemozliwe indziej do przebycia,
Przez kraje, przez granice zielone i krwawe,
Przez pobojowiska, gdzie szia rzeka smierci,
Matko Boska Zolnierska!
Nie za nasza slawe,
Za naszq mocna wiar? i za trudy zycia
Daj zwyciesko granic? Kraju przejsc wlasnego!

– Wawrzyniec Czeresniewski


Mary! You Are Our Mother

Mary! You are our Mother and we are your children!
In these few words, an ocean of comfort is contained...
Away from the soul's dark thoughts, sorrows, anxieties!
Earth! You are not only a valley of sufferings!

Mary! You are our Mother solemnly given
Through Jesus in His most terrible moment of death!
You are our Mother most cherished, Mother beloved!
Given to us in testament by Your Son from the throne of the cross.

Mary! You are our Mother and we are your children!
You are our refuge and you point the way to salvation!
May your heart like a guiding star shine for us! May our
tears be dried and our suffering relieved!

– Mateusz Jez


Maryjo! Tyś nam Matką, a my dzieci Twoje!
W tych kilku słowach morze pociechy się mieści...
Precz z duszy czarne myśli, smutki, niepokoje!
Ziemio! tyś nie jest tylko padołem boleści!

Maryjo! Tyś nam Matką uroczyście daną
Przez Jezusa w najcięższej chwili Jego skonu!
Tyś nam Matką najczulszą, Matką ukochaną!
Dał Cię nam w testamencie Syn Twój z krzyża tronu.

Maryjo! Tyś nam Matką, a my Twoje dzieci! Bądźże
Ucieczką naszą i deską zbawienia, Niech Twe Serce jak
gwiazda przewodnia nam świeci! Niech osusza łzy
nasze, niech koi cierpienia!

– Mateusz Jez



Your name has no equal on earth,
You are the Mother of God, known by the church,
You exceed heaven's quality in yourself,
You are the most faithful Servant of God!
You bore for mankind Salvation,
Your Son prepared redemption for all!

Not one language is worthy to glorify you,
No brush in human hands can manage to portray you,
No pen could loyally represent you,
No chisel can call you from heaven,
And yet you are honored through the entire world,
You are known by the poorest, most simple people and children.

You yourself are love and goodness,
You are our compassionate Mother and Mercy,
You are for us the happiest Gate to heaven,
Full of hope and blissful sweetness,
Your heart obtains everything from God,
You are our Protection and Comfort!

– Mateusz Jez


Twe Imię nie zna równego na ziemi,
Tyś Matką Boga przez Kościół nazwana,
Przewyższasz niebian zaletami swemi,
Tyś najwierniejszą Służebnicą Pana!
Tyś porodziła ludzkości Zbawienie,
Twój Syn zgotował wszystkim odkupienie!

Żaden Cię język godnie nie wysławi,
Ni pendzel ludzki odmalować zdoła,
Żadne Cię pióro wiernie nie przedstawi,
Żadne Cię dłóto z nieba nie przywoła,
A jednak czczoną jesteś w całym świecie,
Zna Cię najlichszy prostaczek i dziecię...

Boś Ty mdłością i dobrocią samą,
Tyś miłosierdzia Matką i litości,
Tyś najszczęśliwszą nam do niebios Bramą,
Pełną nadziei i błogiej słodkości,
Twe Serce wszystko u Boga wyprasza,
Tyś jest Ucieczka i Pociecha nasza!

– Mateusz Jez



Gothic is a yearning a cry of eternal love
A call to god on High a stretching out of hands
Shooting a bow to heaven towers reaching the clouds
Stained glass windows of blue
Tell Him I am dying for love.

– Aleksandra Bergandy



Baroque is smiling invited to heaven
Announces the Good News "God loves sinners"
Everything has a reason
Birth - suffering - Death here there is a place for you for me
for flowers, trees, saints,
sufferers, virgins, angels, people great and small
redeemed through the love of Jesus
stronger than death
singing from happiness.


Jasna Gora Oasis

I kneel down before you,
in the desert of life
present on human roads
where handfuls of water are Salvation.

I kneel down before you, gate of heaven,
temple of the Covenant from Jasna Gora.
your face
a desert burned by the heat
of human history
blackened in the waiting
comes to me for an encounter.

I kneel down under the well
of your eyes
in order to drink the peace of sanctity.
I kiss the sand
which covers the green of freshness,
daek sand of our ways.

Face with the cracked furrows,
smile at me.

I kneel down before you,
Well of Life.
Immersed in the deep Spring
Which grew from Your Womb,
I relax in God
calmed by your conversation with Him.

I kneel down at the Jasna Gora spring.
You are here alive,
Oasis fo the Nation.

Klękam przed Tobą
w pustyni życia
obecna na drogach człowieka
gdzie garść wody jest zbawieniem

Klękam przed bramą Raju
Świątynia Przymierza z Góry Jasnej
Twoja Twarz
Pustynia spalona w żarze
ludzkich dziejow
sczerniała w czekaniu
wychodzi mi na spotkanie

Klękam przed studnią
Twoich Oczu
aby się napić pokoju świętości
całuję piach
który zasypał zielen świeżości
ciemny piach naszych dróg

Twarz w bruzdach pęknięć
uśmiecha się do mnie

Klękam przed Tobą
Studnio Życia
zanurzony w głębinie Źródła
Które wytrysło w Twoim Łonie
odpoczywam w Bogu
utulony Twoją z Nim rozmową

Klęczę przy Jasnogórskim Źródle
Jesteś tu żywa
Oazo Narodu


Jasna Gora Walls

If you do not believe in the whispering winds
which above the polish earth hums Thanksgiving songs
if you do not feel the heat of love
but you have a human heart
come and listen
how Spring breathes

Walk to the walls of the Ark of the Covenant
stick your ear to the walls of the chapel
hear the prayers from the centuries
and whisper your own night prayers
which you would be ashamed to say during the day

Kiss the stones saturated
by tears and blood of heroes
enter near Our Lady's throne
look in the eyes of Our Mother
and you will find in them yourself
fall on your face
and sarurate the stones
hungry for your tears

jezeli nie wierzysz opowiesciom wiatru
co nad polska ziemia nuci piesn dziekczynna
jesli nie czujesz zaru milosci
ale masz serce czlowieka
przyjdz i posluchaj
jak oddycha zrodlo

wejdz w mury Arki Ocalenia
przyloz ucho do scian Kaplicy
uslyszysz modlitwe wiekow
i swoj szept nocny
ktorego w dzien sie wstydzisz

Ucaluj kamienie nasiakle
lzami i krwia bohaterow
wejdz przed tron Sluzebnicy
popatrz w oczy Matki
a znajdziesz w nich siebie
upadniesz na twarz
i nasycisz kamienie
glodne twojej lzy


They Do Not Have Wine

They are coming to Mother. The need for a
meeting with her and with her Son is greater
than any other value. Those who understand this
are those who once touched their ear to this
venerable wall, gazed into the eyes of Mother,
and heard her words:
" They do not have wine."

Przychodzą do Matki. Potrzeba spotkania z Nią,
z Jej Synem większa jest od każdej ceny. Zrozumie
to ten, kto choć raz prżyłozył ucho do czcigodnych
murów, zapatrzuł się w oczy Matki i uslyszał Jej
"Wina nie mają."


Our Father

Our Father who art also on earth
where Your name is hallowed not only in prayer
and your Kingdom does not roar in the sun like the trees
but is silent in the dark like grain
bitter like justice and hard like holiness
and on the rock it rises against Hope

It grows up from the earth and comes from heaven
It is difficult for us like faith and impossible like love
which comes regardless and calls us
These matters will be a temptation stronger than bread
and let the final form be Your will
when faith and hope already disappear


Ojcze nasz który jesteś także na ziemi
gdzie Twoje imię święci nie tylko modlitwa
a Twoje królestwo nie szumi w sło?cu jak drzewo
lecz milczy w ciemności jak ziarno
gorzkie jak sprawiedliwość i jak
świętość twarde
i na skale wschodzi wbrew nadziei

Ono wyrasta z ziemi i ono zstępuje z
trudne dla nas jak wiara i niemożliwe
jak miłość
która przychodzi mimo wszystko i
nas woła
Spraw nich będzie ono pokusą
silniejszą od chleba
i niech w nim ostatecznym kształtem
stanie się Twoja wola
gdy wiara i nadzieja już przeminą


The Parable of the Father

When you try to forget
I remember

when you cannot fall asleep
I wait until you wake up

when you decide not to return
I look for you

when you do not see the entry
I ask that the gate be opened

when you are dying from hunger
I order the table to be covered

when you are shivering in rags
I choose a garment for you

when you say I will stand and go
I move in the opposite direction

when you rub your eyes, dry like stones,
I cry for you

when you do not dare to stretch out your hand
I enclose you in my arms

When your brother reminds me that you departed
I answer that you yourself have returned

– Janusz Pasierb


Kiedy się starasz zapomnieć

kiedy nie mo?esz zasnąć
czeka aż się obudzisz

kiedy nie myślisz wracać
wygląda ciebie

kiedy nie widzisz wyjścia
każe otwierać wrota

kiedy umierasz z głodu
poleca nakrywać stoły

kiedy się kulisz w łachmanie
wybiera dla ciebie szatę

gdy mówisz wstan? i pójdę
rusza naprzeciw

gdy trzesz oczy jak suche kamienie
płacze nad tobą

kiedy nie śmiesz wyciągnąć rękę
oplatują cię jego ramiona

gdy twój brat wypomni żeś odszedł
odpowie że właśnie wróciłeś

[do góry]


żeby uzdrowić ślepca
Jezus maże mu oczy błotem
wybiera taki właśnie znak
plwocinę zmieszaną z prochem

żądnych władzy pysznych
b?oto nie żywe kamienie
bierze nas w czyste dłonie
czyni narzędziem cudu


Mother's Hand

Open are Mother's hands
heavy like a mature bunch of grapes
cracked palms
ravaged by the troubles collected from her children
swollen by the prayers of withering branches

Mother's hands
stretched out above the world
hands of eternal returns
hands the hope of despair
hands of happy paths and drowned boats
hands stillness after the storm
hands of weeping, broken trees
hands keeping the world in the hinges of love

Open are Mother's hands
full of God.

– Father Jan Pach

Otwarte ręce Matki
ciążące jak dojrzałe kiście winogron
spękane dłonie
zniszczone trudem zbierania w sobie dzieci
opuchnięte od modlitwy usychających gałęzi

Ręce Matki
wyciągnięte nad światem
ręce wiecznych powrotów
ręce nadziei zrozpaczonych
ręce szczęśliwych dróg i tonących łodzi
ręce ciszy po burzy gradowej
ręce płaczących drzew połamanych
ręce trzymające świat w zawiasach miłości

Otwarte ręce Matki
pełne Boga

– Father Jan Pach



Mary, we glorify you.
You gave us Jesus,
and he showed us the love of the Father.
Be praised
because you said, “yes," to God's love.
Help us to accept the gift of faith,
teach us sincere love
and daily sacrifice.
In our lives, long hours have already elapsed
in which we did not know Jesus;
therefore, be with us
and give us hope in desperate hours.
Give faith in the hour of despair
and joy in the hour of pain.
Give us courage in moments of weakness
and teach us absolute obedience.

– Henri Caldelari and Isabelle Barman


Maryjo, wysławiamy Cię.
Ty dała nam Jezusa,
a On objawił nam miłość Ojca.
Bądź błogosławiona,
ponieważ powiedziałaś„tak" Bożej miłości.
Pomóż nam przyjąc dar wiary,
ucz nas szczerej miłości
i codziennego poświęcenia.
W naszym życiu upłynęły już długie godziny,
w czasie których nie znaliśmy Jezusa,
bądź więc z nami
i daj nam nadzieję w godzinie rozpaczy.
Daj wiarę w godzinie zwątpienia
i radośc w godzinie bólu.
Dodawaj nam otuchy w chwilach slabości
i ucz nas absolutnego posłuszeñstwa.

– Henri Caldelari and Isabelle Barman


Calm Us

Virgin of Nazarreth
Smiling and cheerful
for everyone you have time
to lift up the downtrodden
to visit acquaintances
to give water to the thirsty
to comfort the sad with good words
to conquer the angry with a kind smile
to give your own life to every human

Calm Mother
teach us a peaceful life
keep us
in our escape from ourselves

– Father Jan Pach

Ucisz nas

Dziewico z Nazaretu
Wiśsniaczko pogodna i uśmiechnięta
Tobie dla każdego starcza czasu
żeby podnieść upadłych
odwiedzić znajomych
spragnionym podać wody
pocieszyć smutnych dobrym słowem
zwyciężyć zagniewanych dobrocią uśmiechu
oddać swe życie każdemu człowiekowi

Matko ciszy
naucz nas spokoju życia
zatrzymaj nas
w ucieczce przed sobą

– Father Jan Pach


Stories from Old Figures

tories from old figures
Those roadside chapels, those from past years.
Truly they are our fathers' past,
The forgotten world of our forefathers!

We can meet them everywhere
Even if they do not have a date on them...
Think, through the centuries,
Beside them our grandfathers were praying!

They stand, quiet and alone,
Sometimes the , wind sings for them...
Sometimes the rain washes off the dust,
Sometimes someone puts flowers on them!

Today, after years, many figures
Have stories to tell us...
Others are carried by the wind over the fields
And those, only God knows!

– Z.G.


Opowieści starych figur,
Tych prżydroznych, tych sprzed lat..
Wszak to ojców naszych przeszlośc,
Zapomniany przodków świat!

Spotkać je mozemy wszedzie
I choć nie ma na nich dat...
Pomnij, iz przez cale wieki,
Przy nich modlil się nasz dziad!

Stoją ciche i samotne,
Czasem im zanuci wiatr...
Czasem deszcz obmyje z kurzu,
Czasem ktoś poloży kwiat!

Dziś, po latach, wiele świątków
Swą opowieść dla nas ma...
Inne uniósl wiatr na pola
I te tylko Pan Bóg zna!

– Z.G.


To the Immaculate

The last stars come out from their hiding place
the golden moon looks in the mirror of water
cars and streetcars are silent
through the windo w comes the messenger of the shining moon
aray of hope
rests on the face of Immaculata

Covered by a coat of silent prayer in the flickering
smile of stars under the eyelids of heaven looking
always on me in the azure blue weather I sing the
song about the Immaculata

The leaves have fallen from the trees the flowers of
the green lands become silent by the white overcoat
of roads comes the Immaculata

A slender shape
similar to a poplar fluttering in the wind
hands held out in the gesture of invitation
a gentle smile like a ripe berry
and eyes fuli of brightness
in her hand, a rosary

Lady of silver mornings
and pleasant sun sets
Hope of return

– Father Jan Pach


Ostatnie gwiazdy wychodzą z kryjówek
złoty księżyc przegląda się w lustrze wody
zamilkły auta tramwaje
przez okno wpadł goniec płonącego księżyca
promien nadziei
spoczął na Obliczu Madonny

Otulony płaszczem rozmodlonej ciszy
w migocącym uśmiechu gwiazd
pod powiekami nieba
patrzącego wciąż na mnie
lazurem pogody
z czerni Sześciowiekowej Ramy
śpiewam mą pieśn
o Niepokalanej

Opadły liscie drzew
zamilkły kwiaty krain zieleni
po białym płaszczu dróg
podąża Niepokalana

Postać wysmukła
podobna topolom przy wiatru powiewie
ręce wyciągniete w geście zaproszenia
lagodny uśmiech dojrzałych jagód
i oczy pełne blasku
w ręku różaniec

Pani srebrzystych ranków
i pogodnych zachodów słonca
Jutrzenka nocy
Nadzieja powrotów

– Father Jan Pach



Through the singing blue sky by the road covered with a carpet of field roses with a heart blossoming with smiling bluebottles walks the Immaculata

She welcomes the praying flowers
bows to the chikTs cradle
lifts the head of the dying old one
waves to golden fields of grain
kneels on the foot path
and prays by the silence of the Annunciation

Yesterday's road to Elizabeth blossoms every day of the Yisitations when the Maiden from Nazareth yisits the wine groves where she planted her Fiat, by the words of her agreement

Be greeted
You are welcomed by the smile of the morning
Be greeted
Quiet Shepherdess of your Son's meadows
Be greeted


Codzienne nawiedzenia Przez rozśpiewany błękit nieba drogą usłaną dywanem polnych róż
z Sercem rozkwitłym uśmiechem bławatów
idzie Niepokalana

Pozdrawia rozmodlone kwiaty
pochyla się nad kołyską dziecka
podnosi głowę konającego starca
faluje na złotym łanie zbóż
klęka na ścieżce
i modli się milczeniem Zwiastowania

Wczorajsza droga do Elżbiety
rozkwita co dzie? w nawiedzeniach
kiedy Dzieweczka z Nazaretu
obchodzi winne gaje
które zasiała swoim "fiat"
słowem tamtej Zgody

Bądź pozdrowiona
wita Cię uśmiech poranka
bądź pozdrowiona
cicha Pasterko na łąkach Syna
bądź pozdrowiona

– Father Jan Pach



Holy Mother, distributor of heavenly gifts by hands fali of love,

Smiling Country Woman,
with a face tanned by the heat of the sun,
Sanctuary of Bethlehem
in which heaven met with earth
through the Baby's ery in the manger,

bow above the earth and offer us to God.


Holy Mother distrributor
Gifts of Haven
By the hand fuli of love

Smilling -Country-Woman
With the face taned by the heat of sun
Sanctuarium of Bethleem
In which the haven meet with earth
By the Babys-Cry in mender

Bow abowe the wold
And and offer us to GOD

– Father Jan Pach


Scattered grain sprouts towards life;
the sown gift is not silent.
Heavy bunches of grapes promise wine;
from the mature flowers falls the fruit

She cannot keep this happiness for herself;
the gift pushes her towards the people.
She wants to share with her heart,
to break it like bread.
This great secret she hides within herself.

She runs through the hills
carrying God beneath her heart which
rushes towards heaven
like a hungry bird.

The two relatives meet
and understand
that God visits the earth.

St. John bows to the Messiah
and billowing leaves in an air of joyfulness
accompany her thanksgiving Magnificat,
and Mary remains
the Mother of New Times,
the Mother Calling from the desert.

People passing by
do not realize the miracle.
The sun was still shining
and the dark nights were coming,
but in the sky
the Star of New Life.

Bóg nawiedził żiemię

Rzucone ziarno kiełkuje ku życiu
zasiany dar nie milczy
obwis?e kiście winogron zwiastują wino
z dojrzałych kwiatów sypie się owoc

Nie mogła w sobie pomieścic radości
Dar popychał Ją ku ludziom
chciała dzielic się Sercem
łamac jak chleb
wielką Tajemnicę ukrytą w Swym wnętrzu

Spieszyła przez góry
niosąc Boga pod Sercem
które rwało się ku Niemu
jak zgłodniałe pisklę

Spotkały się Krewne
i zrozumiały
że Bóg nawiedził ziemię

Ŝwięty Jan ukłonił się Mesjaszowi
a liście falujące w powiewie radości
wtórowały dziękczynne Magnificat

I pozostała Maryja
Matka Nowego Czasu
u Matki Wołajacego na pustyni

Ludzie przechodzili obok
nieświadomi cudu
słonce nadal świeciło
i przychodziły ciemne noce
a na niebie
wschodziła Gwiazda.
Nowego życia

– Father Jan Pach

All About Mary includes a variety of content, much of which reflects the expertise, interpretations and opinions of the individual authors and not necessarily of the Marian Library or the University of Dayton. Please share feedback or suggestions with


Marian Library

300 College Park
Dayton, Ohio 45469 - 1390

Keyword Search

Would you like to begin a new keyword search?

Get Started