Marinella & Stellios Kazantzidis

The neighbourhoods smell sweetly
of basil and fresh whitewash
Hidden games of love
played over the wall by the kids

My dear, my lovely Saturday night
Christ rising at Easter
A Tsitsanis song
weeping in the distance

It’s passing tonight, once more, passing
the lovely Saturday night
and by Monday again
all bitterness and shadow
If all our life could be
Saturday night
If Death could come to us
one Sunday late at night…

The men who lost their jobs
and their heavy load of grief
they go to bury it
in the underground drinking place

And the moon is dressing, you’d swear,
in her white bridal gown
the young girls going out to wash
at the slum’s washing place

It’s passing tonight, once more, passing
the lovely Saturday night

Πάει κι απόψε τ’ όμορφο
τ’ όμορφο τ’ απόβραδο

The mountains echo
When I cry in the evening
the sad hours pass
on an old clock
and I tick through the sighs
like a string of worry beads

The mountains echo
When I cry in the evening

I am sinking in my heartache
and from my many sorrows
I used to have courage in life,
but now, losing you
it would be preferable for me to die

The mountains echo
When I cry in the evening

I sigh from the wounds
and from your hurtful stabs
you have filled me with wounds
and the pains have devoured me
and you have thrown me into the fire
nothing can save me

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Στενάζω απ’ τις λαβωματιές
κι απ’ τις δικές σου μαχαιριές
λαβωματιές με γέμισες
και μ’ έφαγαν οι πόνοι
και στη φωτιά που μ’ έριξες,
τίποτα δε με σώνει