Les violons tziganes [English translation]

roots in the winter,

the warmness of my father

there's a strange kind of light

which often shines on me.

he knew how with his eyes

make believe he was happy

in the back end of his suburbs,

even in the his dark days.

i would have liked all of the gipsie's violines

to warm-up your soul,

to offer you all the women,

i would have liked the love and the vodka

to roar with laughter, to write a song for you.

i'm not tchaikovski'

it's just a melody.

to tell you about warsaw,

you won't have a symfony.

my father's customs,

all the things of yesterday,

the familly and the war

were just like landmarks.

i would have liked all of the gipsie's violines

to warm-up your soul,

to offer you all the women,

i would have liked the love and the vodka

to roar with laughter, to write a song for you.

alone, in the snow's immensity,

up-there, i know that you dance

surrounded by the silence.

i don't like your absence.

there is not big enough a book

for all my feelings;

i wanted to remain a child;

why did you go away?

i would have liked all of the gipsie's violines

to warm-up your soul,

to offer you all the women,

i would have liked the love and the vodka

to roar with laughter, to write a song for you.

i would have liked all of the gipsie's violines

to warm-up your soul,

to offer you all the women,

i would have liked the love and the vodka

to roar with laughter, to write a song for you.