From a young age I loved
This village
In its irrigation channels I grew up
Playing in the water
And when the sun came out
From behind the mountain
Barefoot yet happy
I welcomed it
And when dawn softly broke
At the edge of the village
It was the start of an endless
Summer day
Bread and salt we ate
But like little children
We asked nothing
We had freedom
Riding on my little donkey
In the cool courtyard
We called her Afroula
And everyone admired her
Bread, cheese, and the wineskin
In our green courtyard
We set off for the pasture
Many children would be there
The days were endless
And so important
And when the sun leaned low
They, too, would end
And the little streets of the village
Filled up with children
Only by the light of the moon
We played Normandy
September was drawing near
And our souls trembled
Freedom was ending
Off to our letters, oh children
We went to our classrooms
We had much to say
We mourned the summer
And we talked and talked
The first rains began
But we did not forget
Taking our books
And a piece of wood for our stove
And before I even realized it
The Carols had arrived
At the bagpipe we tossed coins
And all night long we celebrated
After that, Christmas
And the New Year
The cold pressed down on us
And the deep of winter
But we did not stop
We kept on celebrating
We didn’t have much money
But we were lucky with good company
We went with the horses
Waiting for the musicians
Three groups with instruments
For three days and nights we danced
Carnival came
Once again to the village
It was Gioumpouros
We didn’t want a doctor
A harsh winter in the village
The stove there in the café
At night, spinning gatherings for the girls
And the young men listening in the courtyards
It was the month of February
And Sunday at church
It was the beginning of Spring
And work began again
I, with a friend of mine
Had taken to the mountains
Without realizing it
We got truly lost
Exams were drawing near
And it was my final year
Twelve years old in age
We stepped into authority
Comb, mirror, and hair
We made a part, kids
We thought we knew a lot
We showed off our brains to the younger ones
The courtyard thundered with voices
I had parents and two sisters
And a very devout grandmother
We loved her dearly
And one day like this
A cry was heard
Our good grandmother died
The black earth took her
The years passed beautifully
I wish they were eternal
One sister got married
She went abroad for a while
The little became a lot
Two people were missing from the courtyard
Over the village spread
The dawn of migration
And as many were leaving
For a better life
I decided too
To leave the village behind
It was March by then
And the children had come
And before morning came
The third was missing from the courtyard
But I am not leaving for long
So the courtyard won’t be emptied
Don’t cry, my sweet mother
Migration will not deceive me
I won’t leave you alone
Like others were left
I’ll make a little money
And I’ll come back again
Passing along the village road
I greeted everyone
“Have a good journey,” they said
“Greetings to all”
I threw a white handkerchief
So that I would return again
I forgot no one
In the struggle of migration
From the village I found myself
In the great city
I knew no one
No one cared
And suddenly I found myself
At the bow of the ship
I was waving to my mother
Who had been left alone
My youthful mind
Forgot itself a little
That I left my mother
To drink the bitterness
Behind me I left
My old life
Before me I saw only
A wide, open sea
From the collection's own note: the images with these poems are AI-created artistic renderings by the source, not historical photographs.