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Θέλω νὰ χτίσω ἕνα σπιτάκι
στὴ μοναξιὰ καὶ στὴ σιωπή.
Ξέρω μιὰ πράσινη ραχούλα...
Δὲ θὰ τὸ χτίσω ἐκεῖ.
Ξέρω στὴ χώρα τὴ μεγάλη
τὸν πλούσιο δρόμο τὸν πλατύ,
μὲ τὰ παλάτια καὶ τοὺς κήπους...
Δὲ θὰ τὸ χτίσω ἐκεῖ.
Ξέρω τὸ πρόσχαρο ἀκρογιάλι,
ὅλο τὸ κῦμα τὸ φιλεῖ,
κρινόσπαρτη εἶναι ἡ ἀμμουδιά του...
Δὲ θὰ τὸ χτίσω ἐκεῖ.
Ἀτέλειωτη τραβάει μιὰ στράτα,
σκίζει μιὰ χέρσα ἁπλοχωριά,
σκληρὰ τὴ δέρνει τὸ ἀγριοκαίρι
κι ὁ λίβας τὴ χτυπᾶ.
Μιὰ στράτα χιλιοπατημένη,
τὸν καβαλλάρη νηστικό,
τὸν πεζοδρόμο διψασμένο
θάφτει στὸν κουρνιαχτό.
Ἐκεῖ τὸ σπίτι μου θὰ χτίσω
μὲ μιὰ βρυσούλα στὴν αὐλή,
πάντα ἡ γωνιά του θὰ καπνίζει
κι ἡ θύρα του θἆναι ἀνοιχτή.
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Ι want to build a little house
Where it’s lonely and peaceful.
I know a green ridgetop…
I won’t build it there.
I know the great city
With its wealthy wide avenue
With its mansions and its gardens…
I won’t built it there.
I know the joyful seashore
That’s kissed by the waves of the sea
Lilies grow on its beaches….
I won’t build it there.
A worn path rises endlessly
Cutting through fallow land
The weather thrashes without mercy
And Livas-wind blows without end.
It’s a well-beaten trail
For riders who hunger
For pedestrians that thirst
A refuge for the roosting.
I’ll build my house there
With a fountain in the yard
With a fire always burning
Its entryway always ajar.
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