More about Adam Mickiewicz
Adam Mickiewicz Quotes
5 Sourced Quotes
Now my soul is incarnate in my country,
My body has swallowed her soul,
And I and my country are one.
My name is million, for I love and suffer for millions.
To these fields, painted with various grain, gilded with wheat, silvered with rye.
Sound as a burrow'd marmot he slept
On the straw where he'd tumbled fully-dressed that night.
In spring's own country, where the gardens blow,
You faded, tender rose! For hours now past,
Like butterflies departing, on you're cast
The worms of memories to work you woe.
Monsters merge and welter through the water's mounting
Din. All hands, stand fast! A sailor sprints aloft,
Hangs, swelling spider-like, among invisible nets,
Surveys his slowly undulating snares, and waits.
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The quietness of his tone italicized the malice of his reply.
December 24, 1798
November 26, 1855
Adam Bernard Mickiewicz was a Polish poet, dramatist, essayist, publicist, translator, professor of Slavic literature, and political activist. He is regarded as national poet in Poland, Lithuania and Belarus.
Pan Tadeusz (1834)
Konrad Wallenrod (1828)
Ode to Youth (1820)
Adam Mickiewicz on Wikipedia
Adam Mickiewicz works on Gutenberg Project
Adam Mickiewicz works on Wikisource
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