Argiles
My arghile, praised by all,
Come on, where's our youth, poor thing?
Yes, you who I filled with black hashish
To break my troubled mood.

Speak, and you my kalami
My dervish and my street-lounger.
What will come out of the mess I am in?
Sing to me and you, my kalami, my love.

Make your round, my arghile,
So I can remember the old times.
Together we were talking
Of our troubles, crying - you young one.

My loulas, you also brought
Me the good luck that was written
Black are the eyes that I love, my good one.

Five manges were discussing you
My arghile, they were going to smoke you,
And grab the baglama
Until they needed to smoke again, my young one.

And at barbouti they would play
Until they were wiped out
They will remember the arghile, my arghile

- Cheers, my Stellaki!
- Cheers, Margaroni with your Kanonaki!

See also:
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