Η εικόνα του χειμώνα [I ikóna tou himóna] [English translation]

Through the windown, winter's image enters

rain which falls, trees which bend in the north wind

and you, bent, are always here with bloody hands

you start silently a conversation with the mirror

Around you, there are some yellow, old photos

from your childhood

The radio from 50's

in your solitude, is a voice of consolation

Did life give you anything good to remember?

she fed you with pills of pleasure

Fairy colors and taste of death

in every step, in every moment of yours

Now the mirrow is your only witness

an ally with the miserable years that you hate

In an ashtray there are, extinguished, the dreams you had

in a bottle with alchool (there's) your own life