Maryla Rodowicz - A na czas wojny

I wish I had a string of emeralds,
I wish I had a crowd of sweet talkers.
For the wartime, though, grant me
a droplet of white and silver mist.
For the wartime, though, grant me
a droplet of white and silver mist.

I'm not afraid of the chill of the stars,
even though the wolves' threnode woke us up.
For the wartime, though, for the dark days,
grant me the drops of mist.
For the wartime, though, for the dark days,
grant me the drops of mist.

I wish I had a hundred of dresses,
I wish I had a huge house.
For the wartime, though, grant me
a bunch of wet purple lilacs.
For the wartime, though, grant me
a bunch of wet purple lilacs.

I'm not afraid of frosty winters,
of the whirlwind lurking in the sky.
For the wartime, though, for the dark days,
I need the lilacs of yours.
For the wartime, though, for the dark days,
I need the lilacs of yours.

Let the sky send us the rains down,
let the field of rye gleam.
For the wartime, though, may God grant us
just a gift of forgetting.
For the wartime, though, may God grant us
just a gift of forgetting.

I'm not afraid of bullets whistling,
I'm not afraid of the snowy fields.
For the wartime, though, may God grant us
just the one and only gift of poor memory.
For the wartime, though, may God grant us
just the one and only gift of poor memory.
For the wartime, though, may God grant us
just the one and only gift of poor memory.