Nikos Papazoglou, songwriter

I’m not a poet, I’m a little verse
a little verse of the moment
on a prison wall
and on a small bench

I am sung by the insane and the tramps
I’m a cursed race
with an exiled soul
on other planets

I’m not a poet
I’m his sobbing
I’m a Last Supper
next to me, Judas cries, bowed
and I’m his brother

Εγώ δεν είμαι ποιητής
είμ’ ο λυγμός του
είμαι ένας δείπνος μυστικός
δίπλα ο Ιούδας κλαίει σκυφτός
κι είμ’ αδερφός του

It cracks, tonight, the heart
With the little baglama
It all fell to pieces
A broken glass

I remembered, we used to drink
At this very table
Now who knows where she’s running around
Who knows what she’s looking for

No one here sings
No one here dances
They only hear the tune picked out on the strings
And their minds travel

If you happen to see her
Bring her to the little tavern
I’ll be hidden in the corner
To see her for a little

No one here sings
No one here dances
They only hear the tune picked out on the strings
And their minds travel

Κανείς εδώ δεν τραγουδά
κανένας δεν χορεύει
ακούνε μόνο την πενιά
και ο νους τους ταξιδεύει….

Why does the song have to be sad,
suddenly you’d imagine it is cut from my heart?
And why, at this moment, when I am flooded with joy,
did it rise to my lips and choke me?
Save your strength for the end, you’ll say to me.

I love you, but I don’t have the words to tell you,
and that is an unbearable heart-ache.
I am melting in pain because I too do feel
that the road we are taking cannot be walked.
Courage, it’ll pass, you’ll say to me.

How can I forget her unbound hair
The sand, which like a waterfall bathed me
as she was bent over me thousands of kisses,
diamonds that with open hands she gave me …
I will go, even if it ends up being bad for me.

In what kind of ecstasy, what magical dance,
can such a creature have been born?
From what far-away star is the light
that went and hid itself inside her two eyes?
And me, the lucky one, who has seen it…

In her gaze there is a little heaven,
it flashes like lightning, gets cloudy, grows wider,
but when the night falls, it floods with light,
an August moon rises
and lights the prison from inside.

How can I forget her unbound hair
The sand, which like a waterfall bathed me
as she was bent over me thousands of kisses,
diamonds that with open hands she gave me …
I will go, even if it ends up being bad for me.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Πώς μπορώ να ξεχάσω τα λυτά της μαλλιά
την άμμο που σαν καταρράχτης έλουζε
καθώς έσκυβε πάνω μου χιλιάδες φιλιά
διαμάντια που απλόχερα μου χάριζε
θα πάω κι ας μου βγει και σε κακό

In the shadows the lovers play night’s hide and seek
everyone loves her,
who every evening becomes more beautiful than last night,
dressing them with dreams.

Small, she appears a charmer in the starlight
the sorceress moon,
at once she steals their thoughts, seductress of hearts,
dressing them with dreams.

In the roads they are playing night’s hide and seek, the voices
which are singing for her,
incapably they spread their arms wide to embrace her
and they ask her to remain.

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Στους δρόμους παίζουνε κρυφτό της νύχτας οι φωνές,
που τραγουδούν για κείνη,
ανήμπορες ανοίγουνε μαγάλες αγκαλιές
και της ζητούν να μείνει.

The lonely person
when the others are celebrating
feels ashamed to be all alone
and out of tune with joy

When I am giddy with wine
when the mood is scattered
I am ashamed to sing
and for him not to be spoken of

The lonely person
when the others are celebrating
becomes twice alone
and lowers his head

(translation: Eva Johanos)

Ο μοναχός ο άνθρωπος
όταν γλεντούν οι άλλοι
γίνεται μόνος δυο φορές
και σκύβει το κεφάλι