happysad - W piwnicy u dziadka

Do you remember that place in the basement at grandpa's?
When autumn came,
They would unload coal and apples there
And there, we kissed for the first time.

I took your hands then
and placed them on my face.
And temples pulsated faster,
as hands massaged the lower back.

And upstairs, a storm raged
and the wind swept the sand from place to place.
Puddles drank the yard to the bottom,
and the kennel chased the dog.

Nowhere else felt as safe as there.

And when winter came
and the world quickly turned black and white,
we licked ferns on the windows
and the frost cracked like a whip.

And if we stuck our noses out
it was only for a moment by the pond
to provide oxygen for the fish
but until there was still daylight, we returned under the roof.

Nowhere else felt as safe as there.

In spring and joyful summer days,
we ran to the orchard at dawn
and there, we usually laughed out loud.
When dew tickled our feet

I used to boost you up to the cherry tree,
and from there, we shot at crows.
The pits were our weapons,
the pits were our weapons,
yes, the pits were our weapons,
and the home was our shelter.

Nowhere else felt as safe as there.

But now, now there is war
and day by day, the world is ending more and more.
Another army, devoutly religious,
for some reason, has chosen us.

They shoot at us like at crows,
only with sharp weapons from all sides.
The wind has tousled flowers in our hair,
and fear follows us like the stench from dirty clothes.

And we, we hardly know each other anymore,
sometimes you write something from across the ocean,
some thoughts barely organized,
you throw them into my inbox with spam.

But one beautiful day
just before everything goes down the drain,
I'll reach into the depths of memory
and from there, I'll retrieve that trace.

Because nowhere else felt as safe as there.
No, because nowhere else felt as safe as there.