I've rais'd a monument more lasting than brass,
Higher than the royal Pyramids and vast,
Neither wind nor rain will be of any threat,
As 'tis to last forever, world without end.
I shan't fully die, as a rich part of mine,
Will escape the merciless Libitina, fine.
I shall still be prais'd by the posterity,
To their delight, not out of sheer courtesy,
'till the mighty king of Lechites with his men,
In the Wawel castle up the hill still reign.
I shall be prais'd wither the Vistula flows,
Where the first Lechites' Gniezdo arose,
Where the Dnieper, Oder and the depths of Don,
Folk will keep me on their lips so I shan't be gone.
As I dared, despite the simple wit of mine,
The sheaves of words in the Polish tongue to tie,
Let me beg the noble Melpomene today,
Who shall admit her great merits and her grace,
That she embrace the virtue's token I bequeath,
And willingly crown my head with a laurel wreath.
Translated by Katarzyna Krawczyk