ΚΑΡΣΑΝΑ ΘΕΑ…

Golden threads, the threaded neck,

by machetes gold.

Silver needles playing in the sun,

with small rings.

Cloth silk apron spread,

closed box in the other not dirty,

pursed his knees well stretched
looks forward to being embroidered.

Counts embroiders, and rip counts,

βρίζει γλυκά, γελά η γειτονιά.

Crates will get that straight stretches,

and runs the stitch correctly.

Motif, koupoules, small leaves,

sown with the same hands.

Seals, psaragkatha, and so fiorakia,

και μαργαρίτες σε άλλες μεριές.

Women Karsanes with heat with sharp night,

in their silky cloth bowed,

not to escape the stafrogazi,

not to ever miss the threads.

Karsana by stitch, how well I know you.

I dreamed the other day a goddess Karsana,

who was her name, Maria Koutsohero.

Μίμης Κούρτης – Καισαριανή,1 Δεκέβρη