Exiled to a
I went to the flock one morning,
to trees, , rivers,
to fresh and tender reeds.
Amidst the blooming trees
where the poor grazed,
under a young apple tree
I saw a ; she was asleep,
holding a young lamb.
She was a sight for sore eyes,
dressed in white
brilliant like the starry sky.
I approached and looked into her eyes,
And my broke into three pieces,
for her eyes were filled with
shooting arrows to get me…
Kostas Moundakis (lyre, voice), Giorgis Xilouris or Psarogiorgis (lute)
