Listen
To whom then shall I tell my woe, who will not sigh or groan?
Even the tight-lipped stone itself would shed a silent tear.
The sun has set beyond the rim yet the earth still simmers.
Oh, may the heart that does not sigh know only happiness.
The sun has set beyond the rim and night is closing in,
while torments and an aching heart begin to weigh me down.
You have two lovely eyes, my dear, that gaze upon the ground;
whoever turns and looks on them is carried off to Hell.
Your eyes draw clouds across the sky, your eyebrows raise a storm;
an angel’s body such as yours I have not seen elsewhere.
Translated by John Leatham
Τίνος να πω τον πόνο μου
Τίνος να πω τον πόνο μου, να μην αναστενάξει
η πέτρα η αμίλητη κι εκείνη θε να κλάψει.
Ο ήλιος εβασίλεψε κι η γης ακόμα βράζει
χαρά σ’ εκείνη την καρδιά που δεν ανεστενάζει.
Ο ήλιος εβασίλεψε κι άρχισε να νυχτώνει
κι αρχίσανε να με βαρούν τα βάσανα κι οι πόνοι.
Έχεις δυο μάτια έμορφα που χαμηλά κοιτάνε
κι όποιος γυρίσει και τα δει στον Άδη τον(ε) πάνε.
Τα μάτια σ’ φέρνουν συννεφιά, τα φρύδια σ’ φέρνουν μπόρα
τ’ αγγελικό σου το κορμί δεν το ’δα σ’ άλλη χώρα.
Studio recording, 1995.
Domna Samiou taped the song in Mandamados, Lesvos, sung by Stratís Chiropaídis, in 1968 in the office of the community of Mandamados.
Stratís Chiropaídis sang good and was the soul of the village feasts. He wore the traditional folk costume until the end. He took off his breeches and fez when, very old, was transferred to Athens to be taken care of by his children.
To Whom Then Shall I Tell My Woe
Stratis Chiropaídis. Mandamados, Lesvos 1968.
© Domna Samiou Archive
Stratis Chiropaídis (1927)
Stavros Chiropedis (the father) and his wife Eleni are sitting holding their grandchildren. Standing in the center, Stratis and his two sisters, Elizabeth and Rodothea. Photo of 1927. Photo courtesy of St. Apostolellis.
© Domna Samiou Archive
