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作者: Adam Mickiewicz

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Steeds, men, cannon, eagles flowed on day and night; here and
there fires glowed in the sky; the earth trembled, in the
distance one could hear the rolling of thunder.-
War! war! There was no corner in the Lithuanian land to which its
roar did not reach; amid dark forests, the peasant, whose
grandfathers and kinsmen had died without seeing beyond the
boundaries of the wood, who understood no other cries in the sky
than those of the winds, and none on earth except the roaring of
beasts, who had seen no other guests than his fellow-woodsmen,
now beheld how a strange glare flamed in the sky-in the forest
there was a crash-that was a cannon ball that had wandered from
the battlefield and was seeking a path in the wood, tearing up
stumps and cutting through boughs.

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