Griechischer Wein

It was already dark when I walked home through suburban streets
There was a tavern, from which the light still shone onto the sidewalk
I had time and I was cold, so I stepped inside

There were men with brown eyes and black hair sitting there
And music played from the jukebox, which was foreign and southern
When they saw me, one stood up and invited me

Greek wine is like the blood of the earth
Come, pour yourself a glass and if I then become sad, it's because
I always dream of home; you must forgive me
Greek wine, and the familiar old songs
Pour another one! Because I feel the longing again
In this city, I will always be a stranger, and alone

And then they told me about green hills, sea, and wind
About old houses and young women who are alone
And about the child who never saw his father

They kept saying to themselves: Someday we will go back
And the savings at home will be enough for a little happiness
And soon no one will remember how it was here

Greek wine is to be so foreign, and alone