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POEM "MY TWELVE HOURS" by ANDRZEJ WIRTH
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(English version still being polished)
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They all
Didn't want me
In Venice.
One had installed
For me
An Auschwitz.
Another one
A Workuta.
A Polish cavalry officer
With the brain of a chicken
Barricade of a croisade
of children
A home-backed strongman
Named after a soft cheese
A Nowa Huta.
They all
Eat dust.
And I am sitting in Zattere
Over my Campari.
Says Brecht:
The night has twelve hours
And then comes day.
French translation by Z.Georges Metanomski
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Eux tous,
Ils ne me voulaient pas à Venise..
L'un édifia pour moi
Un Auschwitz
L'autre
Une Workuta
Le uhlan polonais à cervelle de poulet
Une barricade de la croisade
des entants
Le nommé La Fourme Bien Pourrie
érigé en Fort par sa propre érection
Une Nowa Huta
Eux tous,
Ils bouffent maintenant la poussière
Et me voilà à Zattere
devant un grand Campari.
Comme disait Brecht:
La nuit, elle compte douze heures,
Alors, c'est le jour qui surgit.
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BLUES CHORUS BY Z.Georges Metanomski
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Lyrics: Free Variations on "My Twelve Hours" by Andrzej Wirth
Music: Z.Georges Metanomski, inspired by Willy Dixon
Lyrics:
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You know, it's in Venice that I was born to dwell
But somehow
They have built for me a bridge of sighs
With one head up in Warsaw
One head up in Warsaw, the other down in hell
But I have slipped down from this bridge's height
Night has twelve hours, twelve hours has the night
Then comes the dawn, and after comes the day,
And with the day, there comes new day's light.
Music:
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