2019.01.20.
The tavern
It used to be beautiful, I recallin those old times,
my tavern
seashore, sorrow and tsikoudia*1,
burdening my heart
with my dream.
And every evening,
Vardis is pondering
with his lute, *2
and with his wine
he is embroidering this whole world in his amanes *3
And Stavros in the furthest corner
for a pair of cherry lips
he's slowly getting drunk,
and the water goes down
when Vardi's lute
erases his pain.
And Myros starts dancing,
the ground is his only enemy
golden palaces
in some wide, wide sea
he remembers, red as fire
his two eyes.
I remember every daybreak,
I was wishing the sun won't come out
in your arms
my dream was a sailboat
me wandering the world
with your kisses.
My steps*4 are heavy,
maybe it was fake
your love
I am asking the passers-by in the alleys
if they ever saw brown eyes
like yours.
How to judge a lifetime
and a morning star
flickering
in the ruined tavern
an old dream of mine
has remained.