My Village

From a young age I loved

This village

In its irrigation channels I grew up

Playing in the water

And when the sun came out

From behind the mountain

Barefoot yet happy

I welcomed it

And when dawn softly broke

At the edge of the village

It was the start of an endless

Summer day

Bread and salt we ate

But like little children

We asked nothing

We had freedom

Riding on my little donkey

In the cool courtyard

We called her Afroula

And everyone admired her

Bread, cheese, and the wineskin

In our green courtyard

We set off for the pasture

Many children would be there

The days were endless

And so important

And when the sun leaned low

They, too, would end

And the little streets of the village

Filled up with children

Only by the light of the moon

We played Normandy

September was drawing near

And our souls trembled

Freedom was ending

Off to our letters, oh children

We went to our classrooms

We had much to say

We mourned the summer

And we talked and talked

The first rains began

But we did not forget

Taking our books

And a piece of wood for our stove

And before I even realized it

The Carols had arrived

At the bagpipe we tossed coins

And all night long we celebrated

After that, Christmas

And the New Year

The cold pressed down on us

And the deep of winter

But we did not stop

We kept on celebrating

We didn’t have much money

But we were lucky with good company

We went with the horses

Waiting for the musicians

Three groups with instruments

For three days and nights we danced

Carnival came

Once again to the village

It was Gioumpouros

We didn’t want a doctor

A harsh winter in the village

The stove there in the café

At night, spinning gatherings for the girls

And the young men listening in the courtyards

It was the month of February

And Sunday at church

It was the beginning of Spring

And work began again

I, with a friend of mine

Had taken to the mountains

Without realizing it

We got truly lost

Exams were drawing near

And it was my final year

Twelve years old in age

We stepped into authority

Comb, mirror, and hair

We made a part, kids

We thought we knew a lot

We showed off our brains to the younger ones

The courtyard thundered with voices

I had parents and two sisters

And a very devout grandmother

We loved her dearly

And one day like this

A cry was heard

Our good grandmother died

The black earth took her

The years passed beautifully

I wish they were eternal

One sister got married

She went abroad for a while

The little became a lot

Two people were missing from the courtyard

Over the village spread

The dawn of migration

And as many were leaving

For a better life

I decided too

To leave the village behind

It was March by then

And the children had come

And before morning came

The third was missing from the courtyard

But I am not leaving for long

So the courtyard won’t be emptied

Don’t cry, my sweet mother

Migration will not deceive me

I won’t leave you alone

Like others were left

I’ll make a little money

And I’ll come back again

Passing along the village road

I greeted everyone

“Have a good journey,” they said

“Greetings to all”

I threw a white handkerchief

So that I would return again

I forgot no one

In the struggle of migration

From the village I found myself

In the great city

I knew no one

No one cared

And suddenly I found myself

At the bow of the ship

I was waving to my mother

Who had been left alone

My youthful mind

Forgot itself a little

That I left my mother

To drink the bitterness

Behind me I left

My old life

Before me I saw only

A wide, open sea