El Pianista del gueto de Varsovia

Two generations less
two generations more
Dates, just dates
I'm here, you were there

The pick and the shovel, ice on your fingers
you're risking your hands...
The world is dying and you're still alive
because you remember your piano
Beat by beat, in the cold of the ghetto
you're playing Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor, in your memory
If you were my grandson and I were my grandfather
maybe, you would tell my story

I have your same hands
I have your same story
I could have been the pianist of the Warsaw Ghetto

Two generations less,
two generations more
Dates, just dates
I'm here, you were there

And the world learns nothing, it's illiterate
and today your piano plays, just in other ghettos
If I'm outside and you were inside
it was just a matter of place and moment

I have your same hands
I have your same story
I could have been the pianist of the Warsaw Ghetto

Two generations less
two generations more
Dates, just dates
I'm here, you were there

*Based on the autobiographical account 'The Pianist of the Warsaw Ghetto' by Wladislaw Szpilman