Jorge Drexler - El Pianista Del Ghetto De Varsovia

I have Zweig’s blood running in my veins.

I have his spirit,
That fled from Petropolis down to the city, and the buildings of Rio de Janeiro,
And now I possess his soul.

Giving up scribbled down words to a vast and tropical world
Trying not to die from the heat of a summer in Rio.
While the sun hits harshly on my pale white skin
I hide in shadows
Scared of the genes that Zweig has left me with.

I might deny it.
But I am a Polaca
Mixed in with Italians, Blacks
And vira-latas.


Tan solo fechas.
They were only dates.
But if I had lived in a different decade
My story would have been warped.

If I had lived in a different decade
I would have died in the streets of Petropolis
I would have yelled to the whole world my origins
I would have wore it proudly on my skin
I would have said it loud and clear
That I am a survivor
That I am a warrior
Zweig died for me
Zweig yelled for my freedom
Zweig has left me to practice my sins
Zweig is my savior
And so far all I’ve done is denying my historia.