To prof. Staniaław Pigoń as many thanks for
coming to my evening at Collegium Novum

Every policeman knows well
That this street is at the very end,

Black as if some vinyl record
Forever playing the same song

Sarg Street. Sarg Street.
Catastrophic street.


Love? You’ll finally untie.
Laurel? Will come some day;

But when the street
Will enchant you, my friend
As if emerald you’ll fall down.

I stand there every morning, I fade
By the door to a bar or to hell
And eyes watch me in a shade,
Eyes from posters — people or fears.

I die away over there for ages
In this city of darkness, city of gold
Another day comes, like yesterday
Another day — the story untold:

Sarg Street. Sarg Street.
A street of dismay, my friend.

Rulers change, kingdoms pass away
With blessing or with a curse
Four seasons pass, they do not stay
And the fifth turns into craze;

Once there was a movie, but it’s closed
The old paper heroes they stand still —
And only unfulfilled horoscope
From the stars of faked gleam.

Sarg Street. Sarg Street.
A street of dismay, my friend.

Some muses used to live on Sarg Street
Under the sky and musical gleam
And you were there Euridice dear,
But you were taken by the sudden wind;

And I really wanted to come in
Since I’m tough and brave
But guards still keep asking
“Are you really Orpheus, sir?”

Sarg Street. Sarg Street.
A street of dismay, my friend.

I stand there by the musical box
And I play all night the same song
Blood’s on my lips instead of words:
“Where’s my Euridice gone?”

No matter if you swear my friend
I keep playing my restless tones
Everyone is equal in love in the end —
Orpheus or a busker lone.

Sarg Street. Sarg Street.
Narrow and sloped. Under the rain.
Sarg Street. Sarg Street.
I’ll show to all of you, one day!


[© English translation 2010-2020, Mikołaj Gałczyński]