When suddenly you hear the sound of distant funnels in the dark,
The words of prayer like hawks of midnight escape the hot lips as they spark,
The melody is haunting people like sudden raindrops from above –
The little orchestra of hope conducted by the word of love.
In years of war and desolation when rains of treason, rains of lead
Attacked our backs with ruthless anger and there was nobody to help,
And officers had husky voices, what ruled our fortunes from above? –
The little orchestra of hope conducted by the word of love.
Clarinet has holes, the trumpet’s broken, bassoon is rubbed like wise man’s stick,
The skin of drum has gone to pieces, the clarinettist’s still all chic,
The flutist’s subtle as a young prince, conspiring people from above –
The little orchestra of hope conducted by the word of love.