Battle-hymn

Magestic mountains embrace

the rocks, ravines, people, fir trees.

They have seen hordes of Turks and others, conquerors; 

they received the bodies of heroes

and the curses of the brave.

They are still here, the trees that shaded

the sleep of Perdikas 

and the cuckoo that Kolokotronis  never heard

has come to nest in Zatouna.

In vain the guards try to cage my song ;

the ravines carry it on their shoulders

and swiftly lead it to the olive groves.

The mountains of Arcadia are so tall

they dominate the sea

and Pan’s pipes drown out the snarls of the barracks.

Boa constrictors, orangutans, monkeys,

they wear togas, carry scepters

archbishops and commanders-in-chief  shout “Forward” 

and birds’ wings rise behind them.

Terrified heroes abandon the marbles

run away from the verses of poets

hide again on the banks of the Lousios,  in the springs of Mainalos

sharing the shadows with the larks.

Mountain guardians of your valor, my Homeland

the battle-song is your dream and the rifle, your song.

Arcadia VI