blowing wind in the boulevards in November
sweep the snow that penetrates the soul
as a thick frost.
How many times I have thought
that this is the true Polish music!
And feel in it, like yesterday, breaths of wind,
I see the red flame,
the tripod elegant ,and i listen
Slowly, at the great theater,
the orchestra plays a sad march of Poland.
come back in my memory , his last cadence,
the heartbreaking agrement that expresses the moment
in which, the crowd slowly left the cemetery,
and only one remains near to cry.