Pod Budą - Nie przenoście nam stolicy do Krakowa

Golden notes fall on the Rynek
And there is music galore all around
Wierzynek cooks food fit for a king
And the florists wait for a miracle

Sometimes, in dreams, a politician appears
Who is always right, it's settled
And announces with a scholarly voice
That it was best at the times of Piast

Good heavens, what am I hearing
Good heavens, what am I dreaming
I rise in the morning and hastily write
A short refrain, three sentences

Don’t bring our capital to Krakow
Although you like to return to symbols so much
Because they'll appear here soon
Arrogant faces, holy words
And stupidity which really hurts

Here you walk with the moon in your boutonniere
Here in the spring the best poems are born
And as if by a different rhythm
Beat people's hearts here
Even though the air isn't the best for the heart

Golden notes fall on the Rynek
And there is music galore all around
Wierzynek cooks food fit for a king
And the florists wait for a miracle

Lost in a piece of history
Which mother read every evening
We lived through great battles
Always in time for the rescue

But that's already happened
More than one rain fell on us
It won't repeat what happened
The wind in the chimneys is different these days

Don’t bring our capital to Krakow
Although you like to return to symbols so much
Because they'll appear here soon
Arrogant faces, holy words
And stupidity which really hurts

Don't bring our capital to Krakow
Let it stay where it is already
So request, wholeheartedly
Well weighing their own words
Two Cracovians, Gregory T. and Andrew S.