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I take a smoke from my tobacco, I close my eyes, I dive from where I sit. I go beyond, alone, to the horizons of the sea, places deep in my heart.
 

I take another smoke from my tobacco, I go to those places, I go as far as I can, I go deep into my heart I go behind the hill, to places that smell of rain where the sun rises smilingly.
 

Oh, the smell of rain!
 

I take another deep smoke from my tobacco, I close my eyes and dive into those days. I go to the depths of my heart that is beyond the sea.
 

I go to the hamlet, sickle and axe in my hand, I pass through the drizzly thorns.
The cuckoo sings to me, I sing back. The mountains sing back to me with my echoing voice, I like it, I sing too. I shout as loud as I can, the jackals are astonished.
Oh, the song of the jackals, we used to fall asleep with their voices in the smell of the grass-filled bed.
 

I take another deep drag of my tobacco, I go down to the depths of my heart.
My torn rubber boots, my patched pants, my cigarette case falling out of my pocket, I see a half-burned corn silk cigarette. I smile with my eyes full of tears. I get scared sometimes I hear an owl’s voice when the wind blows, oh those days I say to myself.
 

I take another deep drag of my tobacco, I hear the sounds of rattles with the smell of dung…
 

I leave the meadow and the sun hits me. I see my grandfather with a sickle in his hand, his hand tied behind his back. I see my grandmother, she sings a folk song as if she were lamenting.
 

I see my mother with a load of grass on her back, her arms full of strawberries, she is distributing them to us…
The smell of sweat comes with the smell of strawberries, like the smell of soil when it is time to dig a garden.
Oh the smell of soil!
 

I take another drag of my tobacco, my tobacco is finished. I open my eyes and think of those days.
I think of my village from beyond the sea, “from the land where the sun rises with money”
 




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17.03.2025

Our World is Beautiful (Villagers' Reprise)





From the highest point in the sky (To the end of the mines)
Where is the spark? (That illuminates us)
 

What did it look like?
If only we knew
If only this kingdom
Would become beautiful again
 


17.03.2025

Rain





Struggled, waiting for sun
The city tired of rains
You slept, crying, swallowing blood
When the dawn was seen on the horizon
 

I never complaint about fate
Even if it turned my morning into evening
With this evening, it brought
My heart that was left away
 

Little by little, it rained
My heart shattered into little pieces
When it became morning againi
'Do you love me?' - I asked
 

You never asked for anything
You admired my eyebrows and eyes a thousand times
Stroking your black hair,
I lost myself this night
 

Struggled, waiting for sun
The city tired of rains
Where do you go, swallowing blood?
Where would the dawn lead me?
 


17.03.2025

Sawah Lettuces





Sawah lettuces spread out all over the ricefields
Sawah lettuces spread out all over the ricefields
The boy's mother came by to pick some sawah lettuce
The boy's mother came by to pick some sawah lettuce
Without looking, she grabbed a bunch and left
The sawah lettuces has now been brought back home
 

In the morning, the sawah lettuces are sold at the market
In the morning, the sawah lettuces are sold at the market
Laid out in rows, all tied up as well to be sold
Laid out in rows, all tied up as well to be sold
The girl's mother bought some while carrying a woven basket
The sawah lettuces are now ready to be cooked
 

Sawah lettuces are placed in a pot of boiling water
Sawah lettuces are placed in a pot of boiling water
Half-cooked, it's then strained to be eaten as a side dish
Half-cooked, it's then strained to be eaten as a side dish
With two plates of rice and nasnaran, sitting on a divan
The sawah lettuce is eaten with rice
 


17.03.2025

The Little Bunch of Rushes





O maiden of the finest rushes1
What a pity for you that my bundle has come undone
Would you come with me, just the two of us
Under the bank of the wood with the brightest flowers
No priest would ever hear of it
Nor any living soul
Until the birds start to talk in human language
And the blackbird starts speaking Greek.
 

I’ve no stockings nor shoes
Not even a stool to sit down on
I haven't a penny in the whole wide world
Unless Jesus Christ should take pity on me
My trousers are threadbare
And as you know, my blanket is worn out
Yet still there are plenty of women in the taverns
Who chase after me just for the price of a drink
 

Oh, did you think to entice me, young man
With your flattery? Well, it did you no good
There’s many a sensible girl
Carrying a load who has been led astray
But I myself would rather carry heavy loads
And drag them till the day I die
Than have your child on my knee
Asking for news of you when you're nowhere to be found
 
  • 1. Rushes are a kind of grass-like plant used to make floor coverings and furniture, traditionally collected by young women. The motif of gathering rushes often has sexual connotation in folk songs of the British Isles and Ireland in both English and Irish. This song is no exception.