If there was some electric machine To place upon The heart of the entire nation And check the pointer Which nation desires peace It seems to me that in the line A long line of dozens of nations The first place would be taken by Poland Our Poland grows, Poland In Polish lands, armies Sees all its meaning in peace Sadly all bells toll Every priest thunders from his pulpit Newspapers prophesy to the people President Narutowicz is dead! Shame! Shame! Shame! Now be ashamed of your words Let conscience keep you! Maybe God will forgive you For distorting the course of history! Shame! Shame! Shame! His murderer, the hatred That this nation held for him Found an outlet in the form of a madman His blood on your hands! Eligiusz Niewiadomski You are a traitor to all of Poland! Look at the body of the president His blood on your hands! Eligiusz Niewiadomski You are a traitor to all of Poland! Look at the body of the president His blood on your hands! Eligiusz Niewiadomski You are a traitor to all of Poland! Look at the body of the president His blood on your hands! Eligiusz Niewiadomski You are a traitor to all of Poland! Look at the body of the president His blood on your hands!