You become aware when you feel homesick
That you are brothers with the Greek;
Just look at a child of Istanbul
Listening to a Greek epic.
We’ve sworn at each other
In the free manner of our language.
We’ve drawn knife on blood
Yet a love lies hidden in us
For days of peace like these.
What if in our veins
It were the same blood that flows?
From the same air in our hearts
A crazy wind blows.
So generous like this rain
And warm like the sun.
The armfuls of goodness of spring
That surge from within.
Our hostility is like a drink
Distilled from the fruit of the climate
As harmful and as tasteful as any drink.
From this water from this taste have we sinned.
A blue magic between us
And this warm sea
And two peoples on its shores
Equals in beauty.
The golden age of the Aegean
Will revive through us
As with the fire of the future
The hearth of the past comes alive.
First a merry laughter comes to your ear
Then some Turkish with a Greek accent.
Nostalgic about the Bosporus
And you remember the Raki*.
It is when you are homesick
That you recall you are brothers with the Greek.
London 1947