Haris Alexiou

To the lady, our mother, don’t give assistance
not even a walking-stick near her pillow
because she will use it to beat her children every day
and when I speak she will call me a tramp
and if she beats her children whenever she feels like it
we will end up as servile merchants
youth is lost in the dirty little streets
so that they can measure the earth with their ‘boy’

Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
stop governing me
Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
stop tyrannizing me

And if I want now for your voice to be heard
I am caught by the fear of long shadows
your companionship in my life is like gold
and your beauty heals my sorrows
you, uncle, sit and tell us a story
how our mother used to be, back then, long ago
did you get a beating when there was trouble
or did she sing you lullabies, with caresses and kisses?

Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
you break my heart
Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
you wound my joy

And the uncle sobered up a little then
scratched his head and ordered a coffee
mother he said was a little girl
who, orphaned, gathered flowers in a garden
the flowers adorned her haughty head
but when she slept they fell once again to the earth
and from the flowers that Death (Charos) threw
she held me, that I might see life

Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
you have devoured my soul
Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
we will find ourselves friends all together

Such a one, children, was your mother then
the garden afterwards filled up with thieves
our little girl they dressed as a little old woman
and through the rags her wounds could be seen
and if she hits us with rage and yells
others with a lot of means put her up to it
the dream which is leaving frightens her
into searching for a lost freedom

Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
in the furnace of the fire
Lengho, Lengho, Lengho
tell us once again what you are seeking

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Λένγκω, Λένγκω, Λένγκω
στο καμίνι της φωτιάς
Λένγκω, Λένγκω, Λένγκω
πες μας πάλι τι ζητάς

At night, you come into my dreams,
like walking into your own garden,
and though my wings have grown
I shall not be missing from your side.
If there is a God…

Thousands of angels with their white [clothes]
are sharing out twigs of forgetfulness,
and from my body, like stars,
your own children are drawing breath.

If there is a God
may you burn in flames,
and from my teardrop, may you drink fire,
you can not, my heart, go on forgiving a [whole] life [long].
If there is a God and if someone loves me.
If there is a God and if someone loves me.

All my friends, for years now,
have paired off, have built homes,
only for me, it still stands open,
without a roof, the one and only the truth.

If there is a God
may you burn in flames,
and from my teardrop, may you drink fire,
you can not, my heart, go on forgiving a [whole] life [long].
If there is a God and if someone loves me.
If there is a God and if someone loves me.

Θεός αν είναι στις φλόγες να καείς
κι απ’ το δάκρυ μου φωτιά να πιεις
δεν μπορείς μια ζωή καρδιά να συγχωρείς
Θεός αν είναι κι αν μ’ αγαπάει κανείς
Θεός αν είναι κι αν μ’ αγαπάει κανείς.

When a woman drinks
and acts inappropriately
do not misunderstand her
you cannot know her pain

They tell me not to get drunk anymore
because it is not allowed
but of the ache in my heart
you know nothing about

When a woman drinks
every night with a different man
she has lived through a tragedy
and a great pained longing

You tell me not to get drunk anymore
because it is not allowed
but of the ache in my heart
you know nothing about

Μου λέτε πια να μη μεθώ
γιατί δεν επιτρέπεται
μα της καρδιάς μου τον καημό
εσείς δεν τον εξέρετε

In the crowd I had seen you in ’62
In the demonstration that was baptized in blood
and your shape had remained in my mind
and not even your name did I know of you

And in the white sheet of Lethe (forgetting)
you were wrapped up during my most difficult years
but one day around ’68
I saw you again in the train in Omonia

(chorus singing)
Take a break, Haroula,
and sing us the karsilama (a dance)
to make our hearts sweet
and we’ll figure it out later.
Take a break to put our
the flames in our hearts,
let the dance make us drunk
and we’ll figure it out later.

Another time I saw you suddenly
Like a poster that some hand is ripping
it was May of ’77,
and I was just able to touch your hand.

Maybe you are also like me
an acrobat on the wire of history
in your heart a prison
an immigrant in your own country.

Take a break, Haroula,
and sing us the karsilama (a dance)
to make our hearts sweet
and we’ll figure it out later.
Take a break to put our
the flames in our hearts,
let the dance make us drunk
and we’ll figure it out later.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Κάνε διάλειμμα, Χαρούλα,
πες μας τον καρσιλαμά
να γλυκάνεις τις καρδιές μας
και τα βρίσκουμε μετά.
Κάνε διάλειμμα να σβήσει
της καρδιάς μας η φωτιά,
ο χορός να μας μεθύσει
και τα βρίσκουμε μετά.

When you regulate therefore the will
and shares are given to each one
leave me the road which belongs to me
the one that I chose to take alone

In the will with flags and signs
I am the free air that blows
I have for friends the mountains and all the waves
I have for brothers the rivers the birds

In your will I do not have a place
like an ant you had me all of the time
and I have ached with nothing
and I got used to living on a crumb

Στη διαθήκη σας εγώ δεν έχω θέση
σαν το μυρμήγκι με είχατε όλοι από καιρό
και εγώ που έχω με το τίποτα πονέσει
και μ’ ένα ψίχουλο συνήθισα να ζω

I am the son of a partyer
and you are a lady
that’s why I don’t want it to get around
that we are friends

I was born a partyer
and a partyer I will die
and since I love to party
what is it I must do

I have let go of everything
knives and fights
and if I start up my old ways again
mothers will cry

Όλα μου τα παράτησα
μαχαίρια και καυγάδες
κι αν αρχινήσω τα παλιά
θα κλάψουνε μανάδες

And even if icy night came
another day will come with the break of dawn
don’t let the freezing cold frighten you
sing freedom

May, May, golden May
Why were you late for us- my May- and didn’t appear?
To bring us the flowers and the Spring
get up, bathe and change

The times of youth want joy
they conquer Freedom
with struggles, tears and blood
and not with words and lies

Experience- steal it from life
and from the gods lightning
and burn injustice on earth
so we all become brothers

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Την πείρα κλέψτε απ’ τη ζωή
κι από τους θεούς την αστραπή
και κάψτε τ’ άδικο στη Γη
να γίνουμ’ όλοι αδερφοί

We live in a world of magic
having as background the Acropolis, the Lycabettus.
The balconies are full of political nightingales,
promises and loves and colorful balloons
for happy years.

And you Helen and Helen each
sleeping in a province of Athens
you should know that your life has a bounty.
Dying for Greece is something else
than dying by her.

We live in a world of magic
that is working underground with a sole purpose.
To put you in the game that he will fix your life,
to promise you, to promise you until your soul is ruined.
And when he finally manages to control your hope’s pain
it’s not enough for him.
With sweet words he takes you by the hand,
he names you “Greece’s homemaker”
and just when you are about to say “things have changed” and raise the glass
he grasps, steals your dream and commits harakiri.

And you Helen and Helen each
sleeping in a province of Athens
you should know that your life has a bounty.
Dying for Greece is something else
than dying by her.

Κι εκεί που λες αλλάξανε τα πράγματα και σηκώνεις το ποτήρι
Αρπάζει, κλέβει τ’ όνειρό σου και του κάνει χαρακίρι

Με σκλάβωσες, με λάβωσες και θέλω να πεθάνω
για να ‘χω τη λαβωματιά στον κάτω κόσμο συντροφιά
και να ποθώ παράφορα τον κόσμο τον απάνω