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What ails you, poor plane-tree?
Your roots draw water, amán,
your roots draw well, yet you stand there limp,
your roots drink their fill, yet your leaves hang lifeless.
My children, you have asked so I shall tell.
Ali Pasha passed this way with eighteen thousand men.
They all lay in my shadow, they all rested in my shade,
they all took aim and shot me.
They lopped off my branches and my heart shrivelled up,
that old Ali Pasha put a bullet in my heart.
When spring comes and summer,
when Holy Easter is upon us and Christ is risen
then I’ll put forth leaves and branches.

Translated by Michael Eleftheriou

Τ' έχεις καημένε πλάτανε

Τ’ έχεις καημέ- καημένε πλάτανε και στέκεις μαραμένος
με τις ριζού- ριζούλες στο νερό, αμάν,
με τις ριζού- ριζούλες στο νερό,

με τις ριζούλες στο νερό και πάλι μαραμένος;
Παιδιά μ’ σαν με ρωτήσατε, να σας το μολογήσω.
Αλή πασάς επέρασε με δεκοχτώ χιλιάδες.
Κι όλοι στον ίσκιο μ’ έκατσαν, εκάτσαν στη δροσιά μου
κι όλοι σημάδι μ’ έβαλαν, κι όλοι με τουφεκίσαν.
Μου κόψαν τα κλωνάρια μου, μαράθηκ’ η καρδιά μου
κι αυτός ο γερ’-Αλή πασάς μου ρίχνει στην καρδιά μου.
Ταχιά σαν έρθ’ η άνοιξη, σαν έρθ’ το καλοκαίρι,
σαν έρθ’ η άγια Πασχαλιά με το Χριστός Ανέστη
θα βγάλω φύλλα και κλωνιά.

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Studio recording, 2004.

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