Savina Yiannatou

Evga mana mou/ Come out, my mother (Greece)

Εβγα μάνα μου (Ελλάδα)

The children down on the plains
do not talk about the weather
they only fall into the rivers
to grab the cross.

The children down on the plains
hunt a mad man
they strangle him with their hands
and burn him on the beach.

Come daughter of the moon,
daughter of the morning star.
Grant our children
a few caresses of heaven.

The children down the plains
hunt the bourgeois
chop off the heads
from enemies and believers.

The children down the plains
cut rosemary
and adorn the wells
for the young girls to fall into.

The children in the fields
mock the priest
they dress him in all the vestments
and take him to the market.

Come daughter of the moon,
come and light a fire.
Look how many young men
sleep into the night.

Children have no memories
they sell their ancestors
and what they’ll grab will not remain
because they straight away feel melancholy.

Τα παιδιά δεν έχουν μνήμη
τους προγόνους τους πουλούν
και ο,τι αρπάξουν δεν θα μείνει
γιατί ευθύς μελαγχολούν.

Now that spring is here
and the flowers are blooming
the nights intoxicate me
while the boys are whistling

And everyone I meet at night
greets me with “good evening”
but I have nothing to say
I just whistle with the wind

My love must be out there somewhere
but I don’t know who it is
My love must be out there somewhere
but I don’t know where

I ‘ll look for it in the cards
I ‘ll look for it in the stars
but when I find it, I swear
that I ‘ll dress up in white

Θα την γυρέψω στα χαρτιά,
θα την γυρέψω στ’ άστρα
μα σαν την βρω τ’ ορκίζομαι
πως θα ντυθώ μεσ’ τ’ άσπρα.