Polish Waves - Looking Back Moving Forward

Traveller, come! Enter under my leaves for a rest, Where the sun will not reach you. Come, and I promise the best. Even with sun at the highest, Shooting down on the meadows brilliant rays, Diffuse them, I shall be the softest of shadows. Here, right under my crown, Waves gently calling a breeze. Here the starlings and larks all abound and argue with ease. Here the hard-working bees extract from my sweet-smelling flower honey that graces the finest of tables at family hour. And without effort, with the whispers that come from my deep, I shall be singing all visitors sweetly to sleep.