El carrer descalç [Βρέχει στη φτωχογειτονιά] [English translation]

I have seen my barefoot street

And the harshest of my laments.

Every time that it rains in the city,

There's a place that is darker than the rest...

Every time that it rains in the city,

There's a place that is darker than the rest...

Tired of enduring for so many years,

Maybe it would be better to leave.

And, where shall we go? And, who will want

My lament and my crumbling street?

And, where shall we go? And, who will want

My lament and my crumbling street?

The fog has spread its breath,

Blurring the lines of trees;

The walls of my street open

Doors, through which the cold reaches me.

The walls of my street open

Doors, through which the cold reaches me.

Tired of enduring for so many years,

Maybe it would be better to leave.

And, where shall we go? And, who will want

My lament and my crumbling street?

And, where shall we go? And, who will want

My lament and my crumbling street?