Rudyard Kipling
The Greek National Anthem
| Σὲ γνωρίζω ἀπὸ τὴν κόψι | I KNOW YOU of old |
| τοῦ σπαθιοῦ τὴν τρομερή, | Oh divinely restored, |
| σὲ γνωρίζω ἀπὸ τὴν ὄψι, | By the light of your eyes |
| ποὺ μὲ βία μετράει τὴ γῆ. | And the edge of your sword. |
| 2 | |
| Ἀπ' τὰ κόκκαλα βγαλμένη | From the graves of our people |
| τῶν Ἑλλήνων τὰ ἱερά, | Shall your spirit prevail |
| καὶ σὰν πρῶτα ἀνδρειωμένη, | As we greet you again- |
| χαῖρε, ὦ χαῖρε, Ἐλευθεριά! | Hail, Liberty, Hail! |
| 3 | |
| Ἐκεῖ μέσα ἐκατοικοῦσες | Long did you dwell |
| πικραμένη, ἐντροπαλή, | Amid the peoples that mourn |
| κ' ἕνα στόμα ἐκαρτεροῦσες, | Awaiting some voice |
| ἔλα πάλι, νὰ σοῦ πῇ. | That should tell you to return |
| 4 | |
| Ἄργειε νἄλθῃ ἐκείνη ἡ μέρα, | Ah, slow broke that day |
| καὶ ἦταν ὅλα σιωπηλά, | and no man dared call, |
| γιατὶ τἄσκιαζε ἡ φοβέρα, | For the shadow of tyranny |
| καὶ τὰ πλάκωνε ἡ σκλαβιά. | Lay over all. |
| 5 | |
| Δυστυχής! Παρηγορία | Oh, unfortunate one! |
| μόνη σοῦ ἔμενε, νὰ λὲς | The only consolation you had |
| περασμένα μεγαλεῖα, | were the past glories, |
| καὶ διηγῶντάς τα νὰ κλαῖς. | and remembering them you cried. |
| 6 | |
| Καὶ ἀκαρτέρει, καὶ ἀκαρτέρει | Long you have awaited |
| φιλελεύθερη λαλιά | for a freedom-loving call |
| ἕνα ἐκτύπαε τ' ἄλλο χέρι | and in despair one hand |
| ἀπὸ τὴν ἀπελπισιά, | hits the other one. |
| 7 | |
| κ' ἔλεες· πότε, ἄ! πότε βγάνω | And you cried: |
| τὸ κεφάλι ἀπὸ τ 'ς ἐρμιές; | ah! When do I raise my head |
| καὶ ἀποκρίνοντο ἀπὸ πάνω | in this desolate land? |
| κλάψες, ἅλυσες, φωνές! | and the answer was chains, cries so sad. |
| 8 | |
| Τότ' ἐσήκωνες τὸ βλέμμα | Then you shifted your gaze |
| μέσ' στὰ κλάϊματα θολό, | tearfully, clouded in haze |
| καὶ εἰς τὸ ροῦχό σου ἔσταζ' αἷμα, | and on your garment dripped blood |
| πλῆθος αἷμα Ἑλληνικό. | from your children's tortured hearts. |
| 9 | |
| Μὲ τὰ ροῦχα αἱματωμένα | With blood-stained clothes |
| ξέρω ὅτι ἔβγαινες κρυφά, | I know for a fact |
| νὰ γυρεύῃς εἰς τὰ ξένα | that you secretly sought help |
| ἄλλα χέρια δυνατά. | in stronger hands of foreign lands. |
| 10 | |
| Μοναχὴ τὸ δρόμο ἐπῆρες, | On your journey you started alone |
| ἐξανάλθες μοναχή· | and alone you came back |
| δὲν εἶν' εὔκολες οἱ θύρες, | doors do not easily open |
| ἐὰν ἡ χρεία τὲς κουρταλῇ. | when you need them so bad. |
| 11 | |
| Ἄλλος σοῦ ἔκλαψε εἰς τὰ στήθια, | Someone cried on your breast, |
| ἀλλ' ἀνάσασι καμμιά· | but no response at its best; |
| ἄλλος σοῦ ἔταξε βοήθεια, | another promised you help, |
| καὶ σὲ γέλασε φρικτά! | but he tricked you no less. |
| 12 | |
| Ἄλλοι, ὠιμέ! στὴ συφορά σου | Some, allas! in your misfortune rejoice |
| ὁποὺ ἐχαίροντο πολύ, | and with such a cold poise |
| σύρε νά βρῃς τὰ παιδιά σου, | "go find your children" said they |
| σύρε, ἐλέγαν οἱ σκληροί. | as doors were shut in your face. |
| 13 | |
| Φεύγει ὀπίσω τὸ ποδάρι, | The foot slips and slides |
| καὶ ὁλογλήγορο πατεῖ | and in such a haste it steps |
| ἢ τὴν πέτρα, ἢ τὸ χορτάρι, | on stone, or grass |
| ποὺ τὴν δόξα σου ἐνθυμεῖ. | reminders of a glorious past. |
| 14 | |
| Ταπεινότατη σοῦ γέρνει | The miserable head shamefully leans |
| ἡ τρισάθλια κεφαλή, | and the image it brings |
| σὰν φτωχοῦ ποὺ θυροδέρνει, | is of a poor beggar, going door to door |
| κ' εἶναι βάρος του ἡ ζωή. | with no interest in life any more. |
| 15 | |
| Ναί· ἀλλὰ τώρα ἀντιπαλεύει | Yet, behold now the sons |
| κάθε τέκνο σου μὲ ὁρμή, | with impetuous breath |
| ποὺ ἀκατάπαυστα γυρεύει | Go forth to the fight |
| ἢ τὴ νίκη, ἢ τὴ θανή. | seeking freedom or death. |
| 16 | |
| Ἀπ' τὰ κόκκαλα βγαλμένη | From the graves of our people |
| τῶν Ἑλλήνων τὰ ἱερά, | shall the spirit prevail |
| καὶ σὰν πρῶτα ἀνδρειωμένη, | as we greet you again- |
| χαῖρε, ὦ χαῖρε, Ἐλευθεριά! | Hail, Liberty, Hail! |
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