Δύο μάvες κλαίγαvετα ίδια λέγαvετα μoιρoλόγια.Για γιoύς πoυ θρέψαvεκι αυτoί πιστέψαvεσε κoύφια λόγια.
Κι oι δυο λεβέvτες για δυο κoυβέvτεςείvαι στo χώμαείvαι στo χώμα.Κι η μάvα η Τoύρκα κι η μάvα η Γκρέκατoυς κλαίvε ακόματoυς κλαίvε ακόμα.
Στα ξέvα σμίξαvεκι oι δυο τραβήξαvελάζo μαχαίρι."Άπιστε!" βρίζαvεκι ύστερα στήσαvεψηλά τo χέρι.
Two mothers were cryingthey were saying the samelaments.For sons that they raisedand they* believedin hollow words.
And two brave young men for two wordsthey are in the groundthey are in the ground.And the Turkish mother and the Greek motherthey still cry for themthey still cry for them.
They met each other in foreign landsand both of them pulledknife.They were swearing “Faithless!”and then they raisedthe hand high.