Κάτω απ΄ τη μαρκίζα [Kato ap' ti markisa] [English translation]

What now remains of you

In a photo that caught that moment

Is exactly what keeps the lips shut

In that rain scenery.

Everything tells me that you've already left

Even though the casual feeling of this trip shines bright.

You, wherever you go, in each trip,

You get off at the wrong stop.

Years later, under the awning,

I found you when you came to escape from the rain.

Your grey eyes resemble the rain,

But as always, you won't say anything.

It's only me that asks hopelessly

Where you live, where you sleep and how your life is.

And you, that knows just as much as the storm knows,

(You) have nothing to say to me.