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

What now remains of you

in an instant photograph,

is what the lips don't dare [to say]

in that rainy scenery.

Everything tells me that you are already gone

despite the shiny carelessness of the excursion.

You, wherever you go, to whatever trip,

will get off at the wrong stop.

Many years later and underneath the marquee

I bumped into you as you came to take cover from the rain

Your grey eyes [are] just like the rain

but, as always, you will say nothing.

I am the one who is asking hopelessly

where you stay, where you sleep and how you are living,

and You, who knows as much as the storm does,

have nothing to tell me.