This is the city to walk around in the rain
Staring at the barges in the harbor
And to hum songs through the night.
The city has countless streets
Bustling with people running around...
The waitress who brings me my tea every evening
And whom I like a lot although she's a White Russian
Is in this city.

The old pianist who turns around
To look at me
When he sneaks in pieces by Schumann and Brahms
While playing waltzes and foxtrot
Is also in this city.

The ferry boats that caryy passengers
To the village where I was born are in this city.
So are my memories,
All those I love,
And the graves of my loved ones.

This is the city where I have a job,
Where I earn my bread money.
And yet, in spite of all this,
This is the same city I'm leaving
Because of a woman
In another city.