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Εβράδυν παλιοβράδυν
Evening has fallen, the sun has set,
And the fair Yannakos has gone to the Steep Mountain.
Behind the Steep Mountain is a well,
That is where Yannakos is, ah! Yannakos,
Bound, killed, unrecognizable.
– Yannakos, if you had a mother, if you had a sister,
If you had a beloved to mourn for you!
– But I have a kind mother, I have a sister,
I have, too, a beloved; it seems to me that she is coming,
Holding two children by the hand and another to her breast.
– I told you, Yannakos, ak! Yannakos,
Not to go to the war, not to fight!
The Turk is cunning and he kills.
It is by night that he acts and cuts you in pieces.
– I killed a thousand Turks for the love of Christ,
And five hundred more for the love of the Holy Virgin.
And the Turks caught me in their trap.
All day long they scourged me keeping me standing up,
At night they plunged me into ice-cold water.
They cut off his arms to the elbows,
They cut off his legs to the knees.
Translated by Derek Yeld
Eβράδυν, παλιοβράδυν κι ο ήλιος έδυσεν
κι ο ώρηος ο Γιαννάκος πάει στο 'ξύβουνο
στο 'ξύβουνο οπίσω έν' ένα πεγάδ',
εκεί έν' ο Γιαννάκος, αχ Γιαννάκο μου
δεμένος σκοτωμένος κι αναγνώριστος.
– Γιαννάκο μ’ να ’χες μάνα, να ’χες κι αδελφή,
να ’χες κι έναν καλίτσα και να σ' έκλαιγε.
– Έχω και καλομάνα, έχω κι αδελφή
έχω και μιαν καλίτσα, 'φάνην κι έρχεται,
με δυο παιδιά στο χέρι κι άλλο στην ποδιά,
με δυο μαύρα μαχαίρια συχνοδέρνεται.
– Δε στο ’λεγα Γιαννάκο μ’, αχ Γιαννάκο μου,
στον πόλεμο μη βγαίνεις και μην πολεμάς
ο Τούρκος πονηρός έν' και σκοτώνει σε,
τη νύχτα πολεμάει και σκορπίζει σε.
– Χίλιους Τούρκους εσκότωσα για το Χριστό
και άλλους πεντακόσιους για την Παναγιά.
Εμέν οι Τούρκοι κούμπωσαν και πιάσαν με,
ολημερίς με δέρνουν κι αναστάζουν με,
τη νύχτα με πετάζουν στα κρύα νερά.
Εκόψαν τα βραχιόνια τ’ ως τον κόμπου1 τους,
εκόψαν τα ποδάρια τ’ ως τα γόνατα.
1κόμπου: αγκώνα
Eleni Stratoudaki, who is now (1982) 82 years old, was 22 when she fled to Greece as a result of the Greco-Turkish War. The present recording was the occasion for her to relive her youth, to recall her childhood memories when her mother taught her this ancient Acritic song which was born in her own village in Cappadocia. At times her voice seems to break. This is not only due to her age: ‘I did not know that anyone was still interested in this kind of song’, she confided to us. Aris Fakinos (1982)
Studio recording, 1982.
Singers
Informant (source of the song)
