Καλλιτεχνικός Σύλλογος Δημοτικής Μουσικής Δόμνα Σαμίου

You drive me, mother, out from home, in truth though I’ll be going.
I’ll migrate with the little birds and with the long-winged swallows.
In time the birds will all return, but I’ll be ever absent.
Good mother, you will go to church, to church and be at services.
You’ll see the lads and lasses there, you’ll see the handsome young men,
you’ll see my wonted place is free, my wonted stall is empty.
Good mother, you will sore complain, and then you’ll turn back homewards.
You’ll seat yourself at the crossroads and ask for news of me there.
You’ll see a Turk and question him, a Greek and you will quiz him:
- Perchanse you’ve seen or gotten word of my good son, Yannakis?
- I’ve seen him and I’ve listed¹ him in a broad grassy valley.
Black birds were feeding on his flesh, above him white birds circled...

Translated by John Leatham

¹listed: listened to