Who will weep for you? Not John and not Mary.
Neither Percy nor William. Not Gladys – nor Sybil
Hardened by the cold and tough as the seagulls.
But a sad woman from Krakow will. She was born next to Wawel castle,
In a country where we were taught to cry our eyes out by the birches,
By the robins in the park, by Chopin, by black cherries.
From a land with a culture of tears, a land of melancholy…
I raise a toast to you with a cup of tea,
I serve you with my grief – my country’s natural resource.