Small Homeland (Mikri Patrida)

I didn't make long journeys,

my years had roots, were trees

which my heart dressed in leaves

and let them blossom in stone.

I didn't make long journeys.

The people I loved were forests,

my friends were moons and islands,

that my heart thirsted for.

You are my longest journey

You are the night, the day-dream,

my small homeland, my body, my beginning,

you are my land, my breath and air

I didn't make long journeys,

my heart travelled to dreams, to wet sensations

to breathe the mystic world,

and this is enough for me.