POEM "MY TWELVE HOURS" by ANDRZEJ WIRTH
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(English version still being polished)
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They all
Didn't want me
In Venice.
 
One had installed
For me
An Auschwitz.
 
Another one
A Workuta.
 
A Polish cavalry officer
With the brain of a chicken
Barricade of an intifada.
 
A home-backed strongman
Named after a soft cheese
A Nowa Huta.
 
They all
Eat dust.
 
And I am sitting in Zattere
Over my Campari.
 
Says Brecht:
 
The night has twelve hours
And then comes day.                                                                                                                           

French translation by Z.Georges Metanomski
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Eux tous,
Ils ne me voulaient pas � Venise..
 
L'un �difia pour moi
Un Auschwitz
 
L'autre
Une Workuta
 
Le uhlan polonais � cervelle de poulet
Une barricade de l'intifade
 
Le nomm� La Fourme Bien Pourrie
�rig� en Fort par sa propre �rection
Une Nowa Huta
 
Eux tous,
Ils bouffent maintenant la poussi�re
 
Et me voil� � Zattere
devant un grand Campari.
 
Comme disait Brecht:
 
La nuit, elle compte douze heures,
Alors, c'est le jour qui surgit. 
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BLUES CHORUS BY Z.Georges Metanomski
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Lyrics: Free Variations on "My Twelve Hours" by Andrzej Wirth
Music:  Z.Georges Metanomski, inspired by Willy Dixon

Lyrics:
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You know, it's in Venice that I was born to dwell
But somehow 
They have built for me a bridge of sighs
With one head up in Warsaw
One head up in Warsaw, the other down in hell

But I have slipped down from this bridge's height

Night has twelve hours, twelve hours has the night
Then comes the dawn, and after comes the day, 
And with the day, there comes new day's light.

Music:
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