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Month: March 2009

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Poetry

March 23 – Spring by Elżbieta Drużbacka

O golden season in childlike disguise,
Gay Spring! so gratefully we feel thy smile
We needs must overlook thy vagaries
Whether thy winds blow cold or warmly wile;
Or thou with childlike freedom dost presume
To fright with snow the flowers that earliest bloom.

But shouldst thou frighten thou wilt do no harm,
Neither with freezing cold nor sultry glare;
Thou pleasant season! adding to each charm
An understanding with the sun and air.
Thou knowest when to warm and when to cool,
And age refreshed grows young beneath thy rule.

Thou hast the power to unbind the earth
From frosty chains and give her liberty —
A loving child to her who gave thee birth,
Her fetters fall from her when touched by thee.
And through the warmth that in thy bosom stirs
The icy grasp is loosed at length from hers.

When passes winter’s dark, tyrannic sway,
From thee the earth fresh inspiration draws
Thou openest warm thoroughfares each day
Where frozen clod and hardened debris thaws.
When thy soft breath goes forth upon the Earth.
Life conquers death in all renewing birth.

From —Poets and Poetry of Poland A Collection of Polish Verse, Including a Short Account of the History of Polish Poetry, with Sixty Biographical Sketches of Poland’s Poets and Specimens of Their Composition— by Paul Soboleski.

3_i867786

O! złoty wieku w postaci dziecinnej,
Wiosno wesoła! toć się pięknie śmiejesz.
Wszystko twej ujdzie płochości niewinnej,
Czy chłodem dmuchasz, czyli ciepłem grzejesz;
Wolność jak dziecku dla swojej zabawki
Dziś urodzone straszyć śniegiem trawki.

Przecie choć straszysz, nie uczynisz szkody,
Ni skrzepłem zimnem, ni przykrem gorącem:
Przyjemna pora, czas miły, czas młody
Ma swą umowę z powietrzem i słońcem.,
Wie kiedy zagrzać, wie kiedy ochłodzić,
Ma sposób starość orzeźwić, odmłodzić.

Ty okowaną i ściśnioną ziemię
Od tęgich mrozów uwalniasz z niewoli:
Jak córka matki kochająca plemię,
Kajdany zimne rozpuszcza powoli,
Potem zaś bliższym ogniem gdy dosadzi,
Z lodowej więzy więźnia wyprowadzi.

A po tyrańskiej zimowej opiece
Pozwalasz ziemi odetchnąć swobodnie,
To otworzywszy ciepłych duchów piece
Skościałe role rozwalnia wygodnie:
Im częstsze tchnienia z ust swych rozpościera,
Wszystko się rodzi, a nic nie umiera.

Choć się zasępisz, choć płaczem rozkwilisz,
Nie przykro patrzeć na twoje grymasy,
Spragnioną matkę swymi łzy posilisz,
Ucieszysz pola, łąki, kwiaty, lasy:
Ty wszem żywiołom pożytek przynosisz,
Gdy perłowymi wody często rosisz.

Ty szczodrą zwać się możesz monarchinią,
Która corocznie barwy wszystkim dajesz,
Czego najwięksi mocarze nie czynią,
Tyś chętna w datku, nikogo nie łajesz,
Ty wiesz, co komu za kwartał należy,
Nikt o zapłatę z supliką nie bieży.

Zielone lasy w cieniach rozmaitych
Z pięknych kolorów swe okrycia mają:
Insze na brzozach, insze w gajach skrytych,
Insze na drzewkach niskich się wydają
Insze na buku, grabinie i sośnie,
Insze na dębie, który sto lat rośnie.

Insząś zieloność łąkom naznaczyła,
Jedwabne trawy dawszy im za płaszcze,
Ślicznymi kwiatki jak cacko upstrzyła:
Z tymi się Zefir bawiąc skrzydłem głaszcze,
Te też wzajemnie jak z dzieckiem igrają,
Jedne się wznoszą, a drugie zniżają.

Dopieroż kwiatkom, ziołom ogrodowym,
Obacz, jak piękne sprawiła sukienki,
Trudno opisać, ni Appellesowym
Pędzlem malować ich kolorów wdzięki,
Niech się paryskich fabryk materyja
Wstydzi, wenecki jedwab w kłąbek zwija.

LifeStream

Daily Digest for 2009-03-22

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New blog post: Daily Digest for 2009-03-21 http://tinyurl.com/csl7u4
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Just added myself to the http://wefollow.com twitter directory under: #deacon #blogger #mac
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Deacon Jim Just added myself to the http://wefollow.com twitter directory under: #deacon #blogger #mac.
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Homilies

Fourth Sunday of Lent – B

First reading: 2 Chronicles 36:14-16,19-23
Psalm: Ps 137:1-6
Epistle: Ephesians 2:4-10
Gospel: John 3:14-21

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son

A simple sentence. God loved the world and because of that love He gave us His Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Is Jesus a Trademark?

The sentence is simple enough, but understanding its premise is very difficult. The premise is difficult because of all that has been built around the sentence and the premise. In a sense, man has made the premise into a premises. Man has taken this simple sentence and has built walls around it and has fortified its walls.

Looking at all this, one can very easily fall into the trap of seeing Jesus as a trademark, and not as a gift. There’s the Roman Catholic Jesus, the Protestant Jesus, the Evangelical Jesus, the Buddhist Jesus, the Hindu Jesus, the Jewish Jesus, the buddy Jesus, the film Jesus, the book Jesus, Jesus as philosopher, Jesus as spiritual guide, and Jesus as an apparition in toast.

We have a Jesus that is pushed and pulled in every direction, is fought over, and is claimed — not as a gift, not as God’s Son, but as a possession, as a trademark.

Describe God’s gift

Trademark Jesus is not the Jesus of John 3:16. The Jesus that God knows is God Himself, His image, likeness, and unity come as a gift, given freely and without cost or expectation of repayment, all because of love.

The premise of God giving Himself out of love even surpasses our understanding of unrequited gifts. In any exchange of gifts, in everything we do, we carry expectation. That’s our human weakness. We give generously, but somewhere, deep down, we’re waiting for the payback. Will my gift be repaid? Will I get some credit? Will I be loved in return? Will I go to heaven? Our giving entails exchange, but not so with God.

God gave Himself. He gave His Son, co-eternal, the Everlasting, the Alpha and the Omega, the One who put the first breath into mankind. He came with one purpose, to repay the Father for all the evils we have or will ever commit. He came to take up every burden we carry, lifting them off our shoulders. He came to say one thing and one thing only — I love you and give Myself for you.

The gift of self beats all philosophy

It would be easier to understand God coming to us if He had laid down a set of philosophical expectations. If Jesus came and told us that He knew of a way, and laid its secrets out in a philosophical treatise that would get us from point A to point B, maybe then we could understand. After-all, that would be an exchange. We’d have a set of copyrighted and trademarked principals and secrets that we could buy into. If we buy in we would get to heaven, nirvana, whatever.

That’s what the Gnostics believed. They reduced Jesus to a philosopher who left little secrets. If one studied the Jesus secrets enough, one could get to heaven. Did you ever notice that that very premise is much in fashion today? People love that stuff. They think that they can best understand Jesus, and get to heaven, if they discover the little secrets He left behind. It’s easy, just break into the Vatican archives or the secret cave in the Middle East. People relate to faith systems that work that way, like the exchanges they are familiar with. That, my friends, is the very difference between Jesus as a trademark philosophical system and Jesus as gift.

The gift of self is necessary

Our Jesus, the Jesus of Christian faith, is Jesus the free gift of God. We cannot comprehend the total beauty of this gift. St. Paul attempted to explain it in his letter to the Philippians (Philippians 2:5-8):

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped,
but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.
And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross.

In this gift God gave up the glory and perfection of heaven. He came among us born of a poor maiden, in a stable, in a backwater town. He was dedicated to God and became a Rabbi. He walked through the countryside without money or a place to rest with a group of half believing and weak kneed disciples, among them a traitor, and a bunch of tax collectors, public sinners, and prostitutes. Wherever He went the local authorities challenged Him. When He tried to go back home he was driven out of town and was nearly stoned to death. He did all sorts of amazing things, and things only God could do — like raising the dead — and the authorities called Him the devil. They plotted to kill Him and because it was His will to offer Himself for us He let them have their way.

In all this He spoke publicly and He didn’t keep any secrets. He didn’t leave any juicy tidbits in a cave near Jerusalem. He gave Himself and He died — for you and me. His was the gift that was necessary. God’s gift of Himself was absolutely necessary.

The gift is onto salvation

There is and was no amount of money, no number of animal sacrifices, nothing within our grasp or control, that could make things right between us and God. God had to do it, had to will it, and had to carry it out. He did it all, Himself, in Christ Jesus. The gift of Jesus was necessary. God’s love and justice required it. God could not touch us in our sinfulness, because our evil and His perfection cannot co-exist. He couldn’t wash us clean, He couldn’t make it right through a philosophical path, through secrets, or through teachings alone.

Making things right meant that God had to pick up and carry all our ugliness, all of our evil, and had to kill it — destroy it. Jesus did that. In every step, from His nine months in the womb to His death on the cross, He did what was necessary. God reconciled us in Himself, through His Son’s assumption of our ugliness which culminated in His suffering and death. The horror of Good Friday made us clean. We are washed clean and God sees us that way.

Jesus — the gift, not the trademark was the gift that was necessary for our salvation. God’s gift of Himself.

Where does condemnation come from?

In our first reading from Second Chronicles we hear of God’s anger and punishment:

the anger of the LORD against his people was so inflamed
that there was no remedy.
Their enemies burnt the house of God,
tore down the walls of Jerusalem,
set all its palaces afire,
and destroyed all its precious objects.

God allowed the destruction of Jerusalem. We read those words and cower. We see God’s wrath repeated over and over and we love to consider it. It is either a morbid curiosity or a fun endeavor — I bet I know what will happen to him…

—¨Now think of our dilemma, the difficulty we have in grasping God’s gift. Ok, I know God gave Himself and died for me — but when I die He’s gonna be awful mad.

To understand or even picture God rolling out the welcome mat for us we have to believe in the gift He has given. We have to do what is necessary as told to us in the second part of John 3:16

so that everyone who believes in him might not perish
but might have eternal life.—¨

We have to believe in the gift. Condemnation — well that will come to those who obstinately refuse to believe that Jesus was anything other than who He really is.

Condemnation means perishing. Trademark Jesus means hell. That’s the hell that awaits the stubborn heart. God will not condemn us to hell. He condemns no one. We however condemn ourselves through a failure to believe God can love us enough to give Himself for us, that He would be willing to reconcile us. In Chronicles the Jewish people did it to themselves. Their favorite song should have been —Oops I did it again.—

They were the ones who:

added infidelity to infidelity,
practicing all the abominations of the nations
and pollut[ed] the LORD’s temple —¨

They raised idols and Asherah poles. They adopted the local gods and turned from God. They forgot Him over and over, and over again. They condemned themselves through their failure to a believe in God — God who would give Himself for them. They never saw the gift and when they were told of it they decided that they had a better philosophy.

The road to hell is paved with one thing only — a failure to believe. If we stop up our ears, if we cannot see love for what it is, if we turn from God and find a better, more pleasing philosophy or trademark, then we have indicted and condemned ourselves. God’s welcome mat is rolled out. If we show up, believing that for all our faults and shortcomings, we are covered in the blood of Jesus, if we believe in its power to save, to make things right with God, then our salvation is assured.

Will I be saved?

The age old question is before us, —Will I be saved?—

If we see Jesus as a philosophy, as a system, as a set of magical secrets and apparitions in toast, if we see Him as a trademark, then the question is valid. If however we stand here and believe, believe that God so loved the world that He gave Himself as a gift, that He took all our ugliness and destroyed it, that He did it all; if we believe on Him, then we will be walking up the welcome mat.

Believe in Jesus who told us that He is the way, the truth, and the life. If we do that much, trusting in Him, His gift, and His way, then we will have eternal life. Amen.

Poetry,

March 22 – To the Poet Martyr Juan Diaz Covarrubias by Manuel Acuña

I
To-day, when at thy death
Rises a song from every lute,
And by which thou makest for thyself
An altar of thy coffin:
United to that youth
Which thy history has just perused,
While it sings the praises
Which, through thee, spring from their breasts,
I also wish to place
My offering upon the altar.

II
In the tomb where hovers
Thy august and beloved spirit
Lies broken, mute and asleep.
The lyre of thy soul.
Its chords will never more resound
For fatherland or love,
Except in the midst of sorrow
Which sighs over thy marble-stone:
That sublime silence
Which is thy grandest song.

III
This the song that rises
From the harp of patriotism:
This the same silence
As liberty which sings,
For in that holy conflict
Where retrocession caused thee pain,
When yielding under the weight
Of that struggle which nothing respects,
Progress rose in joy
Above the corpse of the poet.

IV
A monster whose memory
Almost surpasses the dreadful,
Who climed in Tacubaya
To the scaffold of fame.
Sacrificing thy glory he
Believed his triumph more certain.
Seeing not his mistake,
And in his cruelty forgetting
That words and songs are more mute
Than the tongue of the dead.

V
From thy existence
He early tore the budding flower,
Destroying in it the pride
Of the American lyre.
Thy superior inspiration
Revolved before his contemptible infamy,
But thy exquisite pen,
Before breaking its flight,
Took heaven for its page
And wrote the eleventh of April.

VI
The fatherland to whom thou
Didst offer thy holy life in tribute
Weeps, and is clad
In mourning in memory of thee;
And breaking the best fruit
From its glorious orchard,
Erects to thee an altar, and upon it
Crowns thy noble endurance
With the double reward
Of the palm and the laurel.

VII
If thy anxiety was to climb
And rise to the infinite,
Longing to leave thy name
Written in the future,
Well mayest thou sleep in peace,
Inert within thy tomb,
Whilst thy native land, on seeing thee.
Proudly contemplates
That if thy life was beautiful,
More beautiful was thy death.

Translation by Ernest S. Green and Miss H. Von Lowenfels

Wreath of Laurel and Palm - Leonardo Da Vinci

I
Hoy que de cada laíºd
Se eleva un canto á tu muerte.
Con la que supiste hacerte
Un altar del ataíºd:
Unido á esa juventud
Que tu historia viene á hojear.
Mientras ella alza el cantar
Que en su pecho haces nacer,
Yo también quiero poner
Mi ofrenda sobre tu altar.

II
En la tumba donde flota
Tu sombra augusta y querida
Descausa muda y dormida
La lira de tu alma, rota
De sus cuerdas ya no brota
Ni la patria ni el amor;
Pero en medio del dolor
Que sobre tu losa gime
Ese silencio sublime,
Ese es tu canto mejor.

III
Ese es el que se levanta
De la arpa del patriotismo;
Ese silencio es lo mismo
Que la libertad que canta;
Pues en esa lucha santa
En que te hirió el retroceso,
Al sucumbir bajo el peso
De la que nada respeta,
Sobre el cadáver del poeta
Se alzó cantando el progreso.

IV
Un monstruo cuya memoria
Casi en lo espantoso raya,
El que subió en Tacubaya
Al cadalso de la historia,
Sacrificando tu gloria
Creyó su triunfo más cierto.
Sin ver en su desacierto
Y en su crueldad olvidando,
Que un labio abierto y cantando
Habla menos que el de un muerto.

V
De tu existencia temprana
Tronchó la flor en capullo,
Matando en ella al orgullo
De la lira americana.
Tu inspiración soberana
Rodó ante su infamia vil;
Pero tu pluma gentil
Antes de romper su vuelo.
Tomó por página el cielo
Y escribió el once de Abril.

VI
La patria á quien en tributo
Tu santa vida ofreciste,
La patria llora y se viste
Por tu memoria, de luto .
Y arrancando el mejor fruto
De su glorioso vergel,
Te erige un altar y en él
Corona tu aliento noble
Con la recompensa doble
De la palma y el laurel.

VII
Si tu afán era subir
Y alzarte hasta el infinito,
Ansiando dejar escrito
Tu nombre en el porvenir;
Bien puedes en paz dormir
Bajo tu sepulcro, inerte:
Mientras que la patria al verte
Contempla enorgullecida.
Que si fué hermosa tu vida.
Fué más hermosa tu muerte.

LifeStream

Daily Digest for 2009-03-21

twitter (feed #4) 3:00am Posted a tweet on Twitter.

New blog post: Daily Digest for 2009-03-20 http://tinyurl.com/cplkea
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Poetry

March 21 – A Word on Statistics by Wisława Szymborska

Out of every hundred people,
those who always know better:
fifty-two.

Unsure of every step:
almost all the rest.

Ready to help,
if it doesn’t take long:
forty-nine.

Always good,
because they cannot be otherwise:
four — well, maybe five.

Able to admire without envy:
eighteen.

Led to error
by youth (which passes):
sixty, plus or minus.

Those not to be messed with:
four-and-forty.

Living in constant fear
of someone or something:
seventy-seven.

Capable of happiness:
twenty-some-odd at most.

Harmless alone,
turning savage in crowds:
more than half, for sure.

Cruel
when forced by circumstances:
it’s better not to know,
not even approximately.

Wise in hindsight:
not many more
than wise in foresight.

Getting nothing out of life except things:
thirty
(though I would like to be wrong).

Balled up in pain
and without a flashlight in the dark:
eighty-three, sooner or later.

Those who are just:
quite a few, thirty-five.

But if it takes effort to understand:
three.

Worthy of empathy:
ninety-nine.

Mortal:
one hundred out of one hundred —
a figure that has never varied yet.

Translated from the Polish by Joanna Trzeciak from The Atlantic Monthly; May 1997; A Word on Statistics; Volume 279, No. 5; page 68.

statistics

Na stu ludzi
wiedzących wszystko lepiej
– pięćdziesięciu dwóch;

niepewnych każdego kroku
– prawie cała reszta;

gotowych pomóc,
o ile nie potrwa to długo
– aż czterdziestu dziewięciu;

dobrych zawsze,
bo nie potrafią inaczej
– czterech, no może pięciu;

skłonnych do podziwu bez zawiści
– osiemnastu;

żyjących w stałej trwodze
przed kimś albo czymś
– siedemdziesięciu siedmiu;

uzdolnionych do szczęścia
– dwudziestu kilku najwyżej;

niegroźnych pojedynczo,
dziczejących w tłumie
– ponad połowa na pewno;

okrutnych,
kiedy zmuszą ich okoliczności
– tego lepiej nie wiedzieć
nawet w przybliżeniu;

mądrych po szkodzie
– niewielu więcej
niż mądrych przed szkodą;

niczego nie biorących z życia oprócz rzeczy
– czterdziestu,
chociaż chciałabym się mylić;

skulonych, obolałych
i bez latarki w ciemności
– osiemdziesięciu trzech
prędzej czy później;

godnych współczucia
– dziewięćdziesięciu dziewięciu;

śmiertelnych
– stu na stu.
Liczba, która jak dotąd nie ulega zmianie.

LifeStream

Daily Digest for 2009-03-20

facebook (feed #7) 3:00am Updated status on Facebook.

Deacon Jim New blog post: Daily Digest for 2009-03-19 http://tinyurl.com/cvvxrl.
twitter (feed #4) 3:00am Posted a tweet on Twitter.

New blog post: Daily Digest for 2009-03-19 http://tinyurl.com/cvvxrl
facebook (feed #7) 1:01am Updated status on Facebook.

Deacon Jim New blog post: March 21 – A Word on Statistics by Wisława Szymborska http://tinyurl.com/de8buq.
twitter (feed #4) 1:01am Posted a tweet on Twitter.

New blog post: March 21 – A Word on Statistics by Wisława Szymborska http://tinyurl.com/de8buq
Poetry

March 20 – Lamentation Hymn, Part I

Pain overwhelming fills my heart with anguish.
Jesus prepares now for His death forth coming.
Kneeling, He prays there, drenched in a sweat of blood;
My heart is sickened.

Ropes of love bind Him; soldiers then approach Him.
Kissed as with honor, now betrayed by Judas.
See now His face there, with holy tears streaming,
With love o’er flowing.

They shove and beat Him, by the hair they drag Him.
Pushing and pulling, agony increasing.
The pain enduring, patiently He bears shame,
King from the heavens.

Holy face battered, blood drips from it freely.
His lips are swollen by the blows of servants.
Cast into prison, darkness surrounds our King,
Light of all nations.

Would that my cold heart might be warmed by my tears;
These blows that strike You, I inflict with my sins.
Accept my sorrow, for so offending You:
My God, I love You.

Translation by the National United Choirs of the Polish National Catholic Church, Music Commission

[audio:https://www.konicki.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/03/02-gorzkie-ac2bbale-i-hymn-ac2bbal-duszac299-ac29bciska.mp3]

Żal duszę ściska, serce boleść czuje,
Gdy słodki Jezus na śmierć się gotuje;
Klęczy w Ogrójcu, gdy krwawy pot leje,
Me serce mdleje.

Pana świętości uczeń zły całuje,
Żołnierz okrutny powrozmi krępuje!
Jezus tym więzom dla nas się poddaje,
Na śmierć wydaje.

Bije, popycha tłum nieposkromiony,
Nielitościwie z tej i owej strony,
Za włosy targa: znosi w cierpliwości
Król z wysokości.

Zsiniałe przedtem krwią zachodzą usta,
Gdy zbrojną żołnierz rękawicą chlusta;
Wnet się zmieniło w płaczliwe wzdychanie
Serca kochanie.

Oby się serce we łzy rozpływało,
Że Cię, mój Jezu, sprośnie obrażało!
Żal mi, ach, żal mi ciężkich moich złości
Dla Twej miłości!

LifeStream

Daily Digest for 2009-03-19

twitter (feed #4) 3:00am Posted a tweet on Twitter.

New blog post: Daily Digest for 2009-03-18 http://tinyurl.com/coll75
facebook (feed #7) 3:00am Updated status on Facebook.

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twitter (feed #4) 9:30pm Posted a tweet on Twitter.

New blog post: March 19 – Happy the man whose Patron http://tinyurl.com/d9nl7h
facebook (feed #7) 9:30pm Updated status on Facebook.

Deacon Jim New blog post: March 19 – Happy the man whose Patron http://tinyurl.com/d9nl7h.
twitter (feed #4) 1:01am Posted a tweet on Twitter.

New blog post: March 20 – Lamentation Hymn, Part I http://tinyurl.com/c9peq4
facebook (feed #7) 1:01am Updated status on Facebook.

Deacon Jim New blog post: March 20 – Lamentation Hymn, Part I http://tinyurl.com/c9peq4.
Poetry

March 19 – Happy the man whose Patron

Happy the man whose Patron,
And guardian is Joseph,
No harm shall he fear,
With St. Joseph at his side……………he shall not die.

Flee, the world’s futility,
Because death holds no fear,
I already have a sweeter song,
Joseph my guardian……………with you.

Wither away, satanic invasions,
Grant to those who stand with me
Whatever may come or whatever remains,
Hell may battle against me……………I shall not die.

When Joseph is my beloved
I am defended from all evil
On me you cast your protection
Eternal death……………I shall not see.

Translation by Dcn. Jim

[audio:https://www.konicki.com/wp-content/uploads/2006/03/jozszcz.mp3]

Szczęśliwy, kto sobie Patrona,
Józefa ma za Opiekuna;
Niechaj się niczego nie boi,
Gdy Święty Józef przy nim stoi……………Nie zginie.

Idźcie precz marności światowe,
Boście wy do zguby gotowe;
Już ja mam nad kanar słodszego,
Józefa Opiekuna mego……………………..Przy sobie.

Ustąpcie, szatańskie najazdy,
Przyzna to zemną człowiek każdy,
Że choćby i samo powstało,
Piekło się na mnie zbuntowało…………….Nie zginę.

Gdy mi jest Józef ulubiony,
Obrońca od każdéj złéj strony,
On ci mnie ze swojéj opieki
Nie puści, i zginąć na wieki………………..Nie mogę.

Przeto cię upraszam serdecznie,
Józefie Święty, bym bezpiecznie,
Mógł mieć zgon i lekkie skonanie
I grzéchów moich skasowanie…………….Przy śmierci.

Gdy mi zaś przyjdzie przed Sędziego,
Stawić się, wielce straszliwego;
Bądźże mi Józefie przy sądzie,
Kiedy mnie Bóg sądzić zasiędzie………….Patronem.

Odpędzaj precz nieprzyjaciela,
Duszy méj, spraw oskarżyciela;
Kiedy mnie skarżyć, prześladować,
Będzie chciał, chciejże mnie ratować……O Święty.

Józefie! Oddal czarta złego,
A Boga na mnie zgniewanego
Przejednaj, o co cię serdecznie,
Upraszam, bym mógł z tobą wiecznie……Królować.

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