This song means a lot to me. Itās Halia by Foivos Delivorias, which is itself a cover of Invitation to the Blues by Tom Waits. The Greek lyrics in this version feel like pure poetry if you understand the language.
Lately Iāve been thinking about covers. Iāve always struggled with the idea of doing them myself ā it feels like Iām not really improving the song, just performing a version that already exists, poorly. And yet, itās always felt amazing to play them for myself or for friends. So Iāve decided: why not do them anyway? Maybe itās a way of sharing the songs that shaped me with whoever listens.
Still, every time I post a video of myself performing (which is rare), I wonder if Iāll ever be able to watch and listen without harsh judgment. When I hear my voice, I zero in on every imperfection. But as I keep posting, Iām starting to notice some of the good qualities too. Iām curious if Iāll ever be able to listen to myself the way a stranger might ā without the criticism, just hearing the music.
lyrics (english below)
ĪοιĻαξΠĻην ĻĻĻ ĻεĻβίĻει
Πιο λεĻ
ĪŗĪ® κι αĻ' Ļην ĻοΓιά ĻĪ·Ļ
Ī ĻĻ ĪŗĻαĻάει Ļηλά Ļον ΓίĻĪŗĪæ
Īαι Ļην αξιοĻĻĪĻειά ĻĪ·Ļ
ΔοΓανθĻĻ Ī¼ĪµĻ ĻĻα Ļεμάλια
Īαι Īεά Ī¼ĪµĻ ĻĻĪæĻ
Ļ ĪøĪ½Ī·ĻĪæĻĻ
Ī ĻαγίΓα για να Ī³ĪÆĪ½ĪµĪ¹Ļ Ļάλι Ļάλια
Ī ĪæĻ
ήΓη νιĻĪøĪµĪ¹Ļ Ļαν Ļον Cagney
ĪĻĻĪæĻĻά ĻĻĪ· Rita Hayworth
ĪĪµĻ ĻĻην ĻĻίκνα Ī¼Ī¹Ī±Ļ Ļ
ĻĻĪ³ĪµĪ¹Ī±Ļ Ī¶ĻĪ®Ļ
ĪιεĻĻĻάĻαι αν είναι μĻνη
Īν ĻοβάĻαι αν ĪøĻ
μĻνει
Īα ĻĪæĻ
Ī“ĻĻει κάĻοιο Ļήμα
Īείνε κι άλλο και θα ΓειĻ
Σε ĻĻĻάει "Īα ĻιείĻε κάĻι;"
Īαι ĻĪæ ακοĻĻ Ļαν να 'ναι Ļοίημα
ĪĪµĻ "Īεν ξĪĻĻ Ļ, Ļι να 'ναι ĻĻĻĻ Ī½Ī± 'ναι"
Īα 'ναι ĪŗĻίμα να ĻĻην ĻάĻει κάĻĪæĪ¹ĪæĻ Ī¬Ī»Ī»ĪæĻ
ĪĪ½Ļ ĪµĻĻ ĻĻĻĻĪæĻ Ī±Ī¹ĻĪøĪ¬Ī½ĪøĪ·ĪŗĪµĻ ĻĪæĻ
βĻ
ĪøĪæĻ ĻĪ·Ļ Ļα ĪŗĪæĻάλια
Īα ĪÆĻĻĻ Ļάλι Ļλα αĻ
Ļά
Īα είναι ĪŗĻĪ»ĻĪæ για να Ī³ĪÆĪ½ĪµĪ¹Ļ Ļάλι Ļάλια
Look at the way she servesā
whiter even than her apron,
holding the tray up high,
holding her dignity even higher.
A wildflower among the riffraff,
a goddess among mortals.
Sheās the trap that pulls you back into the mess
youāre already inā
and you feel like Cagney
standing in front of Rita Hayworth,
all in the smoke and grease
of an underground life.
You catch yourself wondering:
Is she alone?
Is she scared?
Does she ever get angry?
Will she give you some kind of sign?
Stay a little longer and maybe youāll see.
She asks, āWould you like something to drink?ā
and you hear it as if it were poetry.
You say, āI donāt know⦠anything, whatever,ā
thinking itād be a shame
if someone else got to her firstā
when youāre the one who felt
the corals hidden in her depths.
But maybe all of this
is just another trick
to leave you wrecked again.