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Kitsos’ mother sat on the river bank
scolding the river.
Scolding the river and pelting it with stones.
‘River flow less, river turn back
so I can cross you, cross to the klepht villages
where the klephts are meeting, every captain there’.
They’ve caught Kitsos, they’re on their way to hang him,
a thousand marching up ahead, two thousand to his rear
and behind them all his black-fated mother
dirging and lamenting:
‘Kitsos, where are your arms,
where are your weapons?’
‘Mad mother, crazy mother, mother driven mad,
who does not mourn my ill-fated youth,
my wasted courage.
You weep for my arms alone, my weapons,
mad mother, crazy mother of mine’.

Translated by Michael Eleftheriou

Του Κίτσου η μάνα

Μωρέ, του Κίτσου η μά- μωρέ η μάνα κάθουνταν
στην άκρη στο ποτάμι,
με το ποτά- μωρέ ποτάμι μάλωνε.

Με το ποτάμι μάλωνε και το πετροβολούσε.
–Ποτάμι για λιγόστεψε, ποτάμι στρίψε πίσω
για να περάσω αντίπερα, πέρα στα κλεφτοχώρια
πο ’χουν οι κλέφτες σύναξη κι ούλ’ οι καπεταναίοι.
Τον Κίτσο τονε πιάσανε και παν να τον κρεμάσουν,
χίλιοι τον παν από μπροστά και δυο χιλιάδες πίσω
κι ολοξοπίσω πήγαινε η μαύρη του μανούλα.
Μοιρολογούσε κι έλεγε, μοιρολογά και λέει,
– Κίτσο, πού είναι τ’ άρματα, τα έρημα τσαπράζια;1
– Μάνα λωλή, μάνα τρελή, μάνα ξεμυαλισμένη
δεν κλαις τα μαύρα νιάτα μου και την παλικαριά μου,
μόν’ κλαις τα ’ρημα τ’ άρματα, τα έρημα τσαπράζια
μάνα λωλή, μάνα τρελή.

1τσαπράζια: αρματωσιά

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Recording information

Studio recording, 2004.

Based on Simon Karas' recording which belongs to the Association for the Dissemination of Greek National Music.

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