Edyta Geppert - Bal u Pana Boga

To a small town, where you had lived since you were a child
A gorgeous gown a la moderne, a new fashion journal
Straight out of Paris a renowned firm had sent
So that you may wear it to your first ball

In this little town each night you dreamed
Of the grand bal, which fire in your veins awakens
Lush chariots speed ahead, bathed in light they shimmer
And then everywhere you emanate your beauty's spell

In this little town there had never been balls
Nor were chariots ever pulled by a horse's back
Years passed, youth has gone, the gown covered in dust
The beautiful gown from Paris, Maison La Valette

When finally the swarm of your dreams became fulfilled
In the gown they dressed you up as if for a ball
Strange men have carried off your slab
In a strange chariot you ride somewhere far into the distance

A black wagon, horses two, take you to your sleep eternal
An old priest singing, evoking sorrow in your soul
The smell of lilacs, and you as a silent mourning veil
You went to God's ball