Zbigniew Wodecki - Dobranoc, dobranoc

Your dreams are
a white table in the kitchen
a medicine cupboard full of herbs
a cigarette cut in half
and us
Your dreams
are winter and a wool scarf
are a ball on New Year's Eve
the August nights' scorching heat
and springs we feel sorry for

So when
the dreams finally fly in
then the day that was so bad
shall turn tears into anemones
your tears
So when
it's the last sip of tea
as the clock click-a-clicks
because the day has finally died on it
and no one else will drop by
Nobody else

Goodnight, goodnight
Dreams cuddle up to the cheeks
So you warm them up with your cheek
Goodnight, goodnight
The fire's barely smoldering in the hearth
The day treaded back into the past days
So dream

In your dreams Anthony Quinn pays us a visit
You mix tequila and gin
And when the three-day spleen gets you
Your son becomes the minister

Goodnight, goodnight
Dreams cuddle up to the cheeks
So you warm them up with your cheek
Goodnight, goodnight
The fire's barely smoldering in the hearth
The day treaded back into the past days
So dream