Zacharias Papantoniou,
The High Mountains — The Song of Uncle Fotis
“ Happy are the mountains that grow not old In summer all green and in winter snowed over They wait for the spring, and sweet summer clover The sun buds the branches, green trees unfold This brings out the herds and the young Vlachs playing their flutes The song doesn't grow old! Old Fotis has aged but his voice has stayed light as in his youth. If only that front tooth hadn't been missing! ”
