From the Myths of Warmia

The lake surface is flat and you can see far:

the charge of clouds, in launchers of rays.
The winner is the sun, kilometers from here,
behind the forest, beyond the river touches the ground

And on the lake - calm water and silence.

September afternoon. Day of the grebe continues:
hunts, dives, winkles out...
Then - fish kicking, closer, in the reeds.

At this time of year they are like brooms, and

their sound has softened, matured and grown up.
But today the summer hum of reeds, leaves, needles, waves
stopped in humility before the autumn gold.

Red squirrels have no respect,

the two are in a loud dispute around the trunk of a tree;
racing on the bark - "thoorrrh!" - they shout - "thoorrrrh!",
as if someone was interrupting the water with a rod quickly.

In the lake waters, wodnik1 polishes his nails,

in the evening, smtek2 will come to him with a visit -
they will begin to saturate the lake, forest, and meadow -
everything - with poetry, fairy tales and dreams.

They are still generous at this time of year, and

their whisper has softened, matured and changed
so, that this summer hum of reeds, leaves, needles, waves,
stopped today in humility before the autumn gold.

MMXVII

1 a water deity from Slavic mythology

2 a mythical elf from folklore of Warmia and Mazury region