Saturday, August 3, 2013

Featured: Rebetika

Rebetika, Songs From The Old Greek Underworld

In this bed of pain
I've tossed years without a cure;
Before me, I see my death,
When we're young it makes us ghosts.
My chest hurts, sweet Mom,
I feel like my body's tearing apart,
The leaves are falling, the bell's tolling,
Night's blowing in, black and dreary.
Tell me, vreh Mom, what punishment
Tyrannizes me without pity?
Maybe it's because of your own sins
Than even Kharos shows me no pity.
In this bed of pain
I beg Kharos to come
and deliver me, sweet Mom,
From this hidden martyrdom.
(first recorded in 1949)

This book, and thousands of others, can be purchased from:

Brickbat Books
709 South Fourth Street
Philadelphia, PA 19147

215 592 1207

Tuesday: thru Saturday, 11am to 7pm
Sunday: 11am to 6pm
Closed Monday 

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