I'll never forget the warmth of my grandma's old gas stove In the cramped two-bedroom apartment that always smelled like smoke My grandpa would sit in his room with a cigarette in his left hand Stroking his coarse grey beard while solving a crossword puzzle My grandma would be shuffling around in her kapcie , house slippers Baking and cooking and frying and banging pots and pans Boiling strawberry jam with fresh fruits picked from her dzialka , yard And pickling cucumbers and cabbage and mushrooms in glass jars I'll never forget the sweet smell of nalesniki wafting from the kitchen In my paternal grandfather's loft, up on the fifth floor Cottage cheese crepes fried in oil, dipped in jam It was my favourite breakfast as a kid My grandpa's dog, Grot, would wag his tail and beg for crumbs Then we'd go for walks to the old town Strolling along the cobblestoned streets of Olsztyn, my hometown The sun warming me up on a bright summer day I'll never forget my gre