An - Dimitra Galani

She hangs about her garden\nShe’s chatting with the flies\nAvidly reads the classics\nShe never ever sighs\nA cigarette is always\nExtension of her time\nGives her a new lease of life\nTo find the perfect rhyme\nShe now enters the bedroom\nUnmakes the bed, lies down\nStudies Sylvia Sexton\nAnd tightens her night gown\nThere is a curse around her\nShe explains to her gas fire\nThat feminist production\nWas not to take her higher\nMi mou milas gia agapi (do not talk to me about love)\n(She hangs about her garden)\nMi mou milas (don not talk to me)\nPetheni to oniro mas (our dream is dying)\n(She never ever sighs)\nMi mou milas\nMi mou milas gia agapi\n(San klene ta poulia) (as birds are crying)\nMi mou milas gia agapi\n(Stin ermi akrogialia) (at the lonely coast)\nPetheni to oniro mas\n(Stin adia akrogialia) (at the empty coast)\nMi mou milas gia agapi\n(San klene ta poulia)\nMi mou milas gia agapi\nStin ermi akrogialia)\nThe gas stove in the kitchen\nWarms up her lettered past\nOf fantasies\nOf lovers\nThat rose and baked fast\nMi mou milas gia agapi\n(Mi mou milas)