A photo, an old photo
In black and white, with a date behind.
December 21, winter (19)43
Namecode Dora.
A thousand coats, suitcases and hats
Walk so much like a pack.
Do they really know what awaits them?
Certainly others.
Listen to its story, listen to this crying violin.
In the name of memory, listen to this speaking pain
Even if the wood got old, its sad music remains inside.
A man smiles, as if to say "thank you"
To the one he loves, did he understand
There were trips no one would come back from
Trains for nowhere?
He would like to stay, just to embrace her
Be born like her, not to hide anymore
Share her life, see his friends again
Adam, Noah, Elias.
Listen to its story, listen to this crying violin.
In the name of memory, listen to this speaking pain
Even if the wood got old, its sad music remains inside.
Then came the echo, the end of the ghetto
Some stars on a flag.
But the one (star) he wore so high
Was his imperfection.
A photo, an old photo In black and white, with a date behind. December 21, winter (19)43 Namecode Dora. A thousand coats, suitcases and hats Walk so much like a pack. Do they really know what awaits them? Certainly others.
Listen to its story, listen to this crying violin. In the name of memory, listen to this speaking pain Even if the wood got old, its sad music remains inside.
A man smiles, as if to say "thank you" To the one he loves, did he understand There were trips no one would come back from Trains for nowhere? He would like to stay, just to embrace her Be born like her, not to hide anymore Share her life, see his friends again Adam, Noah, Elias.
Listen to its story, listen to this crying violin. In the name of memory, listen to this speaking pain Even if the wood got old, its sad music remains inside.
Then came the echo, the end of the ghetto Some stars on a flag. But the one (star) he wore so high Was his imperfection.