Przemysław Gintrowski - Kataryniarz

You dream of nothing anymore, everything has been dreamt of
Wind will blow ashes, rain will clean prints
And I play here on the battlefield
I outlived everyone and I will outlive you too.
Tattered hat and wrinkly coat
And toothless smile has decorated my face,
And how old am I?- I don't remember anymore
But I will live while your graves will be dug out.

Relentlessly I crank the grind
Without hesitation, I swear:
What sounds in my song
Will be sounding in thousand years.
I play in palaces and at squares
With the same sound constantly
After all, my barrel organ
Knows only one song.

The same characters will be dug out of the ground
And again I will see what I've seen not once
That sages awarded the academia laurel
For the ironclad proof that the black is the white.
Villain will accuse the victim before the court
And again someone washes his hands of sentence
And cups with hemlock will twirl in circles
And again someone will be banished from Florence.

In city's ruins barbarians
Will burn down saint books
And I play my barrel organ
So listen to my song.

Somewhere some nation is dying out
Another will be growing up in power
And I- an old organ grinder
Play the same song all along.

Who will guess whether I play a sad or a happy song
That both the alive and dead ones brings to dance
Bastille collapsed and the walls still grow
Rome is burnt down and jester plays the lute.
And the ghostly waltz sounds and the world went dancing
And again someone will hurtle his horse towards windmills
Again Abel fell dead, murderer- unknown
And who fought for the people has his hands cut off.

Eternally, my pilgrimage lasts
With continuous movement of my hand
I feed my barell organ
And I will not change its song.
What will come back will elapse
Sand will cover wrath and agony
And I- an old organ grinder
Will play my song
Will play my song
Will play my song.