Jürgens Udo
But please with cream...
Greek wine
It was already dark when I walked home through suburban streets.
There was a Inn,
from which the light still shone onto the sidewalk.
I had time and I was cold, so I went in.
Men with brown eyes were sitting there and with black hair,
and music was playing from the jukebox that was foreign and southern.
When they saw me, someone stood up and invited me in:
Greek wine is like blood the earth,
come pour yourself a drink, and if I get sad,
it's because I always dream of home,
you have to forgive!< br/>Greek wine, and the old familiar songs,
Pour again, because I feel the longing again,
In this city I will always be just a stranger, and alone!
/>And then they told me about green hills, sea and wind,
about old houses and young women who are alone,
and about the child who has never seen his father.
They kept telling themselves that at some point they would go back,
and the savings would be enough for a little happiness at home,
and soon no one would think about what it was like here.
Greek wine...
(transcribed by: [email protected])