Chanson triste [English translation]

A musician begins in front of his blank page

A sad waltz, they're not always cheerful, these artists

He sings for himself the notes that come into his mind

Like an autumn wind, it's not always cheerful, Poland

His sadness stole the song from the piano

And it plays on your stereo

When you have a heavy heart at night

His song, it's the goodbye he didn't know how to tell her

The kind of music to reminice, to reminice

The sun rises again, he's used his ink pen

On his sad waltz, they don't sleep often, these artists

What does it matter who you love, the goodbyes are the same

And the autumn wind goes way further than Poland

His song, he wrote it without knowing how

It's probably his heart that you can hear

When someone else sings it passing by

His song, it's his goodbye he didn't know how to tell her

The kind of music to reminice, to reminice

A musician begins in front of his blank page

A sad waltz, they're not always cheerful, these artists

He sings for himself the notes that come into his mind

Like an autumn wind, it's not always cheerful, Poland