Μια κόρη Βρονταδούσαινα ⬥ A maid from Vrontados sat weaving, her loom in full song to the shuttle’s beat when a bird flew down and perched on it. Its song was like no other bird’s, not like the swallow’s, for when it sang it sang in human voice. – Christ, [...]
Πάλι ν-εβγήκαν στο χορό ⬥ Again they entered in the dance, four eyes as dark as olives, four eyes that weave like shuttle through the hearts they break in pieces. I’ll sing a song for you, my love, that you will hear with pleasure: You have an angel’s figure and [...]
Το μοιρολόι της Παναγιάς (Pεΐς Ντερέ) ⬥ … – O holy John, forerunner and baptizer of my son, where is my much beloved son, your own beloved teacher? – My lips won’t frame the words for you, tongue-tied I cannot speak, nor could my heart contain itself, if what I [...]
