Here you will find the Poem The Saturday Night Song of poet Julian Tuwim
Hooray, the echo will resound throughout the wide square, When a sincere drunkard's song emanates from my throat; Tonight I'll be lapping up a smoky pub's atmosphere, I'm bloody well going to get sloshed, buzzed and somewhere float. My spirit gorged, I'll bang the table with my strong fist, Searching for a little brightness from these gloomy days- Take no more you soft touch! Liberty! May the vile twists Of my ricketed brats in the garret rot away. I'll drink-smash everything in sight but never mind, I'll pay myself! Can I not afford to break a glass or two? I can, you bastards! With the rubles from my black grind I could even have two dozen mistresses to woo. I smash-because I feel like it! Hang it all! Freedom! I've power! Run, spirit, till dawn. Out of the way. Today we rule! And when I leave the pub with hands in the pocket of my trousers I'll stagger wide down the drunken street, nobody's fool!
