Ai, mother Molyvos
please stop complaining
because you seriously
chase your last clients away

Your bumpy little streets, centuries old
Your ancient houses well anchored
on the proud rocky mountain
that once gave you life

They saw a lot of history
but never let you down
agitation, war, doors closed
you survived with you head held high

A new wave of troublous times
no need to let the head hang
it is not the world that rules you
but your back that lets you down

You always rode the storms
your back like a solid mast in choppy times
now full of rheumatism
not knowing how to move

It is not Achilles who stands before your gates
but the sad illnes Me, Me, Me
of people that do not understand
that the world keeps on turning

the managers far away
no vision nor plans
they will tear down your walls
filling their pockets just for themselves

You, magnificent lady of Molyvos
where did you leave your pride
you let yourself under the command
of stupid and loud screaming

You know that your blood not only comes from the island
but also from the other side of the sea
you always helped in difficult times
but now you seem stiff frozen

A cold and pitiless heart
does not suit you at all
that is no way to save the world
nor your own beloved town

O, Mother Molyvos
dust is piling up
do not be seduced by too big dreams
but clean your own street first

As sparkling and beautiful you dress up in August
when shiny pianos and violins
do revive happy times
under the stars at the castle

You didn’t forget
how to touch the hearts of the people
so do the same during the other months
with your head held high.