Verses about Poland

I read verses about Poland written by foreign poets. Germans and Russians have not only rifles, but also ink, pens, a little heart and a lot of imagination. Poland--in their verses-- resembles a reckless unicorn feeding on the wool of tapestries, it is beautiful, weak and imprudent. I do not comprehend the working of the mechanism of illusion but even I, a sober reader, am enchanted by that legendary, defenceless country on which feed black eagles, hungry emperors, the Third Reich and the Third Rome.

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