Petros Gaitanos / Πέτρος Γαϊτάνος

You burn the wings of passion
and when they turn to ash
they will become the sins
mistakes that are forgiven

And dance and dance and dance
in the rays of the sun
that in your black days
hopes may shine

That’s the way love is put together
with heartaches, fires and tears
with lowered lights
and wild evenings with sweat

That’s the way love is put together
with heartaches, fires and tears
to tumble you in the weeds
and if you don’t believe me, ask

Burn the wings of passion
and when they turn to ash
make it into thread and pass it through
a spindle made of silver

And turn and turn and turn
like a firewalker*
until you see that you become
fire and palikari**

That’s the way love is put together
with heartaches, fires and tears
with lowered lights
and wild evenings with sweat

That’s the way love is put together
with heartaches, fires and tears
to tumble you in the weeds
and if you don’t believe me, ask

(Translation: Eva Johanos
*αναστενάρη ~ one who participates in a ritual fire walking ceremony celebrating Saints Constantine and Helen, and purported to go back to the worship of Dionysus in ancient times
**παλικάρι ~ palikari (singular) a young man, with the positive connotations of bravery, strength, good character and good looks)

When the Mother ages and can endure no more
Then she’s in need of assistance, then she is in need of life
And when the time comes and she lives no more
Unless you’ve done your duty, your soul will be burning.

The Mother is like cool fresh water and a glass can’t hold her
The Mother should not be, the Mother should never be.

The Mother is a rock, the Mother is a mountain
When in dire straits, you’ll turn to her for help
At the moment of need, you’ll dearly call her name.
The Mother is a great prop, the branch of joy
The Mother’s love is not of this world.

Mother is like cool….

The years will go by, we’ll grow older ourselves
All this is inevitable and not one will get out of it,
And all should be aware of this, during our earthly life
Without their Mother’s blessings, no one can prosper

Η μάνα είναι κρύο νερό και στο ποτήρι δε μπαίνει
η μάνα να μη γίνεται, η μάνα να μη γίνει