One day
strange wind broke out
sudden, strong, forgotten
shook the ancient mountains
and made rock grasping
tufts of grass and
gaunt shepherds waive

Albion's own
Aeolian son, a poet
His voice spine tingle
His step land ripple
Holding the hands
of lost Hellenes

A mesh of rebel flesh
The crowd and him, one
With heated words
and hungry swords
They have a message

We are the Greeks
in Byron's embrace
hereby resurrected
Gone hunger mad
We roar and roar

Hear our joyful scream
Stranger passing by
Go tell our brothers
We are coming home

Fotios, February 2004