Jacek Kaczmarski - Nasza klasa

What has become of our class
Asks Adam in Tel-Aviv
It's hard to come to terms with our times
Hard to even live an honest life -
What has become of our class?
Wojtek is in Sweden, in a porno club
He writes: they pay me well
For something I like anyway

Kaska and Piotrek are in Canada
They've better prospects there
Staszek is getting along in the US
Pawel has got used to Paris
Goska and Przemek are having a hard time
About to have the third brat in May
In vain they complain to officials
That they too want to go to the West

Magda instead is in Madrid
She's going to marry a Spaniard
Maciek lost his life in December
When they were visiting* flats
Janusz, the one who used to incite envy
Being carried by every wave,
Is a surgeon, he treats people
But his brother hanged himself

Marek has been locked up
For refusing to shoot Michal
I'm writing their story
And this is about the entire class
And there's Filip - a physicist in Moscow
Nowadays he collects awards
Goes to Poland whenever he likes
He's been greeted by the Prime Minister

I've found the whole class
In exile, in the country, in a grave
But something has changed
It's every man for himself
I've found the whole class
All grown up and mature
I've scratched open our youth
But it didn't hurt too much...

No longer boys - but men
No longer girls - but women
Our youth will heal over soon
It's nobody's fault
All are responsible
All have got aims in life
All are rather normal
But it's still not that much

I don't know what dream I'm dreaming
Which star is shining upon me
When, among these familiar faces
I'm looking for the faces of children
Why I still glance over my shoulder
Even though no one calls out: friend!
Maybe someone willll play tag with me
Or at least hide and seek...

We grow our own sprouts,
Our own leaves, everyone for themselves
And roots, of course -
In exile, in the country, in graves
Down, sideways, up towards the Sun
To waste, rightwards, leftwards
Who remembers that in the end
It's still one and the same tree...

* visiting flats is a metaphor - this is a reference to police (in PRL it was "milicja" instead of "policja" [police]) manhunts, whis were quite common. People from conspiracy were catched by secret services. A thousands of them were placed in prison, but there were also a lot of them who was murdered "in unclear circumstances".