Antonis Kaloyiannis / Αντώνης Καλογιάννης

At a sweet shop
sit two handsome guys,
three chairs for each of them
and cool under the canvas awnings.

They have set out their fishing line,
“Do you like Greece, miss?
what will you be doing this evening?
do you like mademoiselle the Greece?” (x2)

Charm and manliness,
shirt cuffs rolled up,
they have put their arms out
to show off their biceps.

They have set out their fishing line,
“Do you like Greece, miss?
what will you be doing this evening?
do you like, fraulein, the Greece?” (x2)

They are cool cats, and they dance
tsifteteli** and syrtaki,***
they don’t have a job, the poor guys
but nevertheless they get money out.

They have set out their fishing line,
“Do you like Greece, miss?
what will you be doing this evening?
do you like mademoiselle the Greece?” (x2)

At a sweet shop
are two brave young lads,
who is paying for them to live
the lazy good-for-nothings.

They have set out their fishing line,
“Do you like Greece, miss?
what will you be doing this evening?
do you like, fraulein, the Greece?” (x2)

[translation: Eva Johanos
*the song pokes fun at the desperate flirting behavior of men with little skill in foreign languages, hence the grammatical errors and mixture of Greek with minimal English, French and German
**tsifteteli- Greek bellydance
***syrtaki- well-known Greek folk dance done in a line]

Έχουν ρίξει παραγάδι,
“Σας αρέσει η Ελλάδα μις;
τι θα κάνετε το βράδυ;
do you like φροϋλάϊν the Greece?” ( χ2 )

Our country they argue
about who will be the first to protect her
expensive protectors
they cost a lot
protectors and they argue
in your shop

Illiterate is our country
they don’t allow her to get ahead
and she remains her whole life
in first grade, the little one
they teach her lies
to make her more stupid

She is always in debt, our country
and she sells herself off to each person
for a low price
for a mouthful of bread
for a little while she is in the clear
and then once again from the beginning

Our country is Medea
she makes her embrace into a noose
her arms a rope
in her eyes the sail
endless it seems
the silence of a minute

The country am I and are you
not to put out our tails
you must think about it
to search for and find it
what could she want from us
and what can we do

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Evening came again early
my soul grew dark
and it seems that everything became smaller
and you can’t even cry
my lonely soul

It is long, the trip
and there is neither light nor a place to rest

Show me a road where I may stand
a stone on which to sit for a moment
my heart that I may follow you
and wherever you take me and wherever I find myself
to arrive, where may I arrive

It is long, the trip
and there is neither light nor a place to rest

(translation: Eva Johanos)

I speak of the last trumpet-calls of the defeated soldiers
Of the last rags from our holiday clothes
Of our children who sell cigarettes to the passersby
I speak about the flowers that withered on the graves and are rotted by the rain
About the houses that gape without windows like skulls with no teeth
About the girls who beg showing on their breasts their wounds
I speak of the barefoot mothers who crawl through the ruins
of the burning cities, the corpses heaped on the streets,
The pimping poets that creep at night on the doorsteps
I speak about the endless nights when the light diminishes at dawn
About the loaded trucks and the sound of footsteps on the wet tiles
About the courtyards of the prisons and the tears of those condemned to death

But even more I speak about the fishermen
Who left their fishing nets and followed His steps
And when He got tired they didn’t rest
And when He betrayed them they didn’t deny anything
And when He was glorified they turned their eyes away
And their comrades spit on them and crucified them
And peacefully they take the road which has no end
Without their glance darkening or wavering
Standing upright and alone in the terrible desert of the crowd

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Μα πιο πολύ μιλώ για τους ψαράδες
Π’ αφήσανε τα δίχτυα τους και πήρανε τα βήματα Του
Κι όταν Αυτός κουράστηκε αυτοί δεν ξαποστάσαν
Κι όταν Αυτός τους πρόδωσε αυτοί δεν αρνηθήκαν
Κι όταν Αυτός δοξάστηκε αυτοί στρέψαν τα μάτια
Κι οι σύντροφοι τους φτύνανε και τους σταυρώναν
Κι αυτοί γαλήνιοι το δρόμο παίρνουνε π’ άκρη δεν έχει
Χωρίς το βλέμμα τους να σκοτεινιάσει ή να λυγίσει
Όρθιοι και μόνοι μες στη φοβερή ερημία του πλήθους.

Our life has been put on the auction block;
they take us, they sell us,
in foreign lands life is lost,
they squeeze us out, they throw us away.

Our life has been put on the auction block
in America and Europe;
people gave birth to us
and people sell us.

For a double wage,
they have hid the sky from us;
there is no light for us to live.
Poverty there, night here,
mama, the places were missing
in which for us to build our destiny.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

It’s been a long time since the moon passed by here
The land is khaki; it eats your heart
At night I write again I love you on white paper
I mumble your name in the guard post

Oh, little Anna of snowy weather
I won’t be with you anymore
On November the ninth
when Anna you have your name day

Last night in my dream – what a strange thing the mind is
doves, it seemed, came into the army camp
And when it came up, they said this was a dream too
get up and go to Anna of the winter

Oh, little Anna of snowy weather…