Mirologia
(by region)
Epirus
Whom are the bells
ringing for?
Whom are the church
bells ringing for?
Don’t be afraid, Mother
don’t let your heart
tremble
How am I letting
them take you,
my soul?
Crazed Mother,
I left with the birds
I left with the swallows
The swallows will come back
The birds will return
I will not return again
Who takes
a beautiful youth?
Who takes a waist
for a sword
and a back for a shotgun?
Aetolia
He who hasn’t crossed
mountains
does not believe in snow
He who hasn’t lost
does not believe
the widow’s grief
I have crossed
mountains
and I believe in snow
I have lost
and I believe the widow
Peloponnese
Hear me, wife
This is what I ask of you
On Friday
Don’t wash your hair
On Saturday
don’t change your clothes
On Sunday
don’t comb your locks
Don’t sit under the sun
After church
after the monastery
When the young men
and the young girls
go wandering about
don’t go out
in the neighborhood
don’t sit on the curb
But she did go out
and she sat on the curb
and talked with the
neighbors
She is holding his cup
she’s drinking his water
Lasta Gortynia
Look at that mountain
over there, the tallest
of them all
at its foot there’s a spring
a fountain of cold water
Where wild sheep go
to have a drink
and forget about
their lambs
Tame ones drink from
there, too,
and forget about their pens
The dead drink from it
and forget about the world
You also drank from it,
Father, and you
no longer remember
You don’t know your
children anymore
or your empty home
Trifylia
Tell me, what made
you long for the
Underworld?
They don’t play violins there
They don’t play any games
People don’t sit in pairs
No conversations take place
Young men go without their
armor there
Young girls without their
jewelry
And children
without their mothers
look like fallen apples
Laconia
Vow to bring
the Charon silk
and to his wife velvet
A gold scarf
for his son
Maybe he will grant you,
then, three feasts
in the year
Christmas Day
in the name
of the Christ
Palm Sunday
in the name
of the Palms
and Easter
in the name of the
Resurrection
Krokees Levetsova
I want you to
tell me what
you dreamt about
on the first night
I saw snakes in knots
adders in a tangle
they graze on my knees
they sleep on my breast
They keep
their water canister
on my eyebrows
Ithaca
You deserve to have
nine mourners
Three from Yannina
Three from Constantinople
And three
from your own kin
The first should be your
mother
The second one your
sister
The third one,
the dearest one,
your lover
You deserve three
farewells too
One in the morning
One in the afternoon
And one more,
the last one,
late in the evening
Aetoloakarnania
In Hades the organs play
A wedding is underway
in Hades
Charon’s mother is joyful
Charon’s mother is
hosting a wedding
She is marrying her son
Her master thief
She is harvesting
young men
for the dance
Young girls
for the singing
She is taking housewives
to bake and cook
She is taking good men
She is taking kings
to have them set the table
She is taking maidens
to serve the drinks
She is taking small children
to have them laugh and play
R
hodes
In the Underworld
the sun never rises
The roosters never crow
nightingales don’t sing
They have no water there
They don’t wear clothes
They only eat
smoke there
they dine in the darkness
M
ethoni
Hades got it in his head
that he would build
a palace
He is using young men
as rocks
The older ones as
cornerstones
Small children as nails for
the windows
Once it was ready
and firm
He set it all on fire
And those mothers
who heard
rushed to put it out
Water can’t put
this fire out
Not a whole river
Only tears can put it out
that run from blackened
hearts
Mani
Listen, my Kalopothos,
my only brother
Your mournful sister
avenged your murder
with three
Alas, wretched me,
what other Christian
woman
On the very day of Easter
buried her brother at noon
and her husband
in the evening
Intermission
Byzantine Hymns from the
Funereal Service
First mode
What pleasure in life ever
remains unspoiled by grief?
Second mode
Like a flower it withers,
and like a dream it vanishes
Third mode
All things human are vain,
none of them survive
one’s death
Fourth mode
How formidable is the
mystery of death!
Plagal of the first mode
I am reminded of the prophet
who cried:
I am earth and dust
Plagal of the second mode
My origin and being
are your creation’s command
Grave mode
Give rest,
O Savior and giver of life,
to our brother
whom you have taken
Plagal of the fourth mode
I grieve and I weep
when I come
face to face with death