I probably am dead, I close my eyes but see her
I am completely shy, I probably am dead
She always in the top, as just has seen great Paris
And yesterday I learnt - not only place like that.

What songs I sang for her about polar islands,
Was cherishing the hope to find another way.
But all my songs in vain about gorgeous highlands
She did not wish to know the magic of to-day.

Just hoping to be close I sang for her again
About universe, her numerous boyfriends
But she was not enjoyed as she had been to Paris
Marsel Marso himself once kissed her honey hands.

I left my famous plant though frankly was not fair
To study how to speak in proper dialect
What difference does it make? She is in Warsaw - T-H-E-R-E
My speech with her again like parrot’s - incorrect.

If she sees me I’ll say in Polish "Proshe Pani"
Accept me as I am, will never sing that date
What difference will it make? She in Teheran already.
At last I understood - I always will be late.

As she like wind - elsewhere: - Tomorrow be in Oslo!
I am in deadly trap! I am on troubled way!
I simply realized-let others try to catch her
In hopeless game of love on chess-board of to-day.