Καλλιτεχνικός Σύλλογος Δημοτικής Μουσικής Δόμνα Σαμίου

You quench your thirst from every source, o sea, from every river,
and spare us not a single one of our most manly menfolk.

Áya-móla, áya-léssa!¹
Ah, sea, you are an old deceiver.

A curse upon you, fickle sea! What have you got against me,
that you would keep my love so long, so distant from his homeland?

The sea piles up on sandy beaches.
I love you, yes, but what can I do?

O sea, stretched out in front of me, you know how much I suffer.
O, bring me back from overseas the man I love so dearly.

The sea piles wave on rolling wave.
I love you – it’s no sin to do so.

O sea of heavenly delight and wave of sky-blue beauty,
bring back my love to me, to me, so I may cease my sighing.

Áya-móla, áya-léssa!
Ah, sea you are an old deceiver.

Translated by John Leatham

¹Áya-móla, áya-léssa: nautical commands, ‘Slacken away, let go!’