Four expensive golden crosses

are hanging round your neck,

everyone kisses the crosses

but I kiss your cheek.

Your dog barks at me

and your husband threatens me,

poison a must for the dog

and a gun shot for your husband

Be welcome little bride

to where you go and be loved

even by the doors and windows.

To Ithaca I won’t go back

to spend my time again,

because all the doors and windows

have been closed to me.

I’m leaving with a fond farewell

my poor Ithaca,

taking only my body

since my mind is left behind.

The groom is like an angel

and the bride fortunate masculine children may they have

like the fruits of the apple tree.