Ducha Footbridge over the Motlawa River in Gdansk, Pomerania (Poland)

The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.

Ending of poem Forget

Polish poet Czeslaw Milosz

Dlugi Bridge (Long Bridge) crossing the Oder river in Szczecin, West Pomerania (Poland)

Back to my native place, I'll return
To comfort my bitterness by a distant glee.
When green dusk will enter my window pane
I shall hang myself on my sleeve.

Poem by Konstanty I. Galczyinsky, poet from Szczecin

Edward Rydz-Śmigły Marshall Bridge over the Vistula River in Wloclawek, Kuyavia (Poland)

One doesn't leave a soldier's grave with a broken soul. One doesn't leave with a sense of defeat and hopelessness, but with the unshakable conviction that a new spiritual value has emerged, a value not mine, not yours, but of us all—a value belonging to the entire nation. Their memory must endure and live on forever. In our schools, children should learn the names of those who died in their own community or town. This should be included in the curriculum and be the first lesson they learn about Poland...

Edward Rydz-Śmigły

Olowianka footbridge over the Motlawa River in Gdansk, Pomerania (Poland)

The residents and guests of Gdansk often threw gold coins into the Neptune fountain "for luck". When there were so many coins that the fountain stopped working Neptune struck them with his trident and shattered them into thousands of small gold flakes. The water in the fountain turned into a sweet liqueur. The town innkeepers filled barrels with the golden drink from the fountain all night long. Only the owner of the inn "Under the Salmon", decided not to rob Neptune. In the morning, it turned out that the barrels of greedy merchants contained only pure water, and the cellar of the modest innkeeper was filled with tanks of Goldwasser.

Gdansk legend

Zamkowy Most (Castle Bridge) over the Mlynowka canal in Opole (Poland)

Hello? If you can hear me, give a sign, a call,
enclose a tone. I want to know if there’s a meaning.
Bark during sleep, wake up the neighbors, swing a bell,
let glass fly from the windows, let the singing

of mermaids prompt an erection. Let the host go hoarse
and let the radio shut up, let silence rise
above the street like a mountain peak, like forty floors
of editors accepting slender volumes of complaints and gripes.

I’m waiting for a sign. There’s time. By now, I’m well
regarded here as a nutcase who blabbers on,
who sends letters to his own address. I myself
created you, it’s clear, but what about the future tense

Poem by Opole poet Tomasz Rozycki,

translated by Mira Rosenthal

Slasko Dabrowski Bridge spanning the Vistula River in Warsaw (Poland)

... Some day, I will stop time.
Spread my wings like a bird.
I will fly like the wind
down to where my dreams
come true in Warsaw's multicolour streets

If you wish to see a Vistula dawn,
then come and ride along with us.
You will find out the glory that can be
a Warsaw day.

In the song A Dream of Warsaw

by Czesław Niemen

Grunwaltzky Bridge across the Oder River in Wroclaw (Poland)

Wooden, I lay for centuries above the lazy waters. Now I decorate the navigable route with iron and stone.

Text of a plaque in the bridge until 1945

Bridge over the river Lyna in Lidzbark Warminski, Warmia (Poland)

 

"It's so cold here that I can barely hold my pen in the room despite constantly keeping the fire burning."

Bishop Krasicki, who lived in this castle

John III Sobieski Bridge in the Lazienki Park of Warsaw (Poland)

Oh, for a kindling touch from that pure flame

Which ministered, erewhile, to a sacrifice
Of gratitude, beneath Italian skies,
In words like these: 'Up, Voice of song! proclaim
'Thy saintly rapture with celestial aim:
'For lo! the Imperial City stands released
'From bondage threatened by the embattled East,
'And Christendom respires; from guilt and shame
'Redeemed, from miserable fear set free
'By one day's feat, one mighty victory.

From a Poem by William Wordsworth

about John III Sobieski

Kowalski Bridge over the Slupia River in Slupsk, Pomerania (Poland)

Zabiorę moje ciało w dółW dół, w dół, w dół do rzekiZabiorę moje ciało w dół
Niech woda mnie porwie
Po prostu odpłynie
Och och…

Gonna take my body down

Right down, down, down to the river

Gonna take my body down

Let the water carry me away

Just float away

Oh ohh…

Lyrics of Rzeka (River)

from polish Krystian Ochman

Wooden Bridge over the Prosna River in the Zawodzie Archeology Reserve, near Kalisz, Wielkopolska (Poland)

"Archaeology holds all the keys to understanding who we are and where we come from."

Sarah Parcak

Zwierzyniecki Bridge over the Oder River in Wroklaw (Poland)

 

"A bridge is a meeting place . . . a possibility, a metaphor."

Jeanette Winterson

100th Anniversary of Poland's Independence Bridge over the Martwa Wisla (Dead Vistula) river in Sobieszewo, Pomerania (Poland)

Sobieszewska Island has a new bridge.The need to build it has been talked about for many years. The old pontoon crossing had been here since 1976 and made life difficult not only for residents, but also for tourists. The corroded, damaged structure required repair and the bridge was often closed.

Wyborcza Gazeta, 1st January 2019

Old Tumski Bridge spanning the Cybina River in Poznan, Wielkopolska (Poland)

If porcelain, then only the kind
you won’t miss under the shoe of a mover or the tread of a tank;
if a chair, then not too comfortable, lest
there be regret in getting up and leaving;
if clothing, then just so much as can fit in a suitcase,
if books, then those which can be carried in the memory,
if plans, then those which can be overlooked
when the time comes for the next move
to another street, continent, historical period
or world:

Poem by Stanislaw Baranczak,

painted in a wall in Poznan

Zielona Most (Green Bridge) over the Motlawa River in Gdansk, Pomerania (Poland)

When cathedral bells toll through the morningand sunlight touches steeples with its glare,
and arrows on the town hall clock stop turning,
you will find him on the market square,
sweeping leaves in shadows of despair.
And in that instant you will cease your yearning.
Hunchbacked, with a chuckle he will share
the secrets of his heart, and give a warning
to city doves assembling at his feet,
to sparrows quarrelling on Neptune’s head.
He’ll lower his tobacco chin to meet
their eyes and whisper what Saint Francis said.
He’ll toss crumbs with his withered sailor’s hand.
And when he looks up, you will understand.

Poem The Birdman of Gdansk,
by Leo Yankevich

Grunwaldzki Bridge across the river Vistula in Krakow, Malopolska (Poland)

Tell me who I'll marry, tell me who he'll be
While the Vistula is flowing
By the green oak tree
While the Vistula is flowing
By the green oak tree

Here's a builder come to woo you
No one can build a house like he can
Fondly he tells you that he loves you
As he loves his houses

In a song by Judy Collins

Grunwald Bridge over the Oder River in Wroclaw (Poland)

‘I am thankful for heavens that in all my instincts I stood Polish.’ 

 Friedrich Nietzsche

Bridge over the Vistula River in Ustron, Silesia (Poland)

Vistula flows and flows,
Through the Polish countryside,
And for as long as it flows,
Poland will not perish.

The Vistula River

song from Poland

Bridge in the Jeziorka Valley, Mazovia (Poland)

Perhaps there are more beautiful lands elsewhere
And starry nights, and brighter mornings.
Perhaps forests are greener and thicker,
And the birds in the branches sing more cheerfully.
Perhaps elsewhere... but for my heart
a song of the Vistula and the sand of Mazovia

Translated from Byc Moze,

by Anna German

Footbridge over the Slupia River in Ustka, Pomerania (Poland)

Oj ty rzeko, oj rzeko, Czemus ty niepelna ?

Oy lolej, lolej lo lej, Czemus ty niepelna ?

Oj jakzez mnie pelna byc ? Ludzie chodza wode pic.

Oy lolej, lolej lo lej, Ludzie chodza wode pic.

Oh you river, oh river, why aren't you full?

Oh, la la la... why aren't you full?

Oh, how can I be full? People come to drink water.

Oh, la la la... People come to drink water.

Oj ty rzeko

Folk polish song