George Vizyenos (1849–1896) Like an endless wellspring, gushing forth in mountains, my tears are flowing eternally, in silence. They soften the stones, they plow strong marbles, and through their deep grooves there sprout florescent flowers. Your mere heart can not mellow, can not bow it’s mere hard so love won’t ever grow. Γεώργιος Βιζυηνός (1849–1896) ᾎσμα Σὰν τὴν ἀστέρευτη πηγή,
ποὺ βουρβουλᾷ μέσ᾿ στὰ βουνά,
τὰ δάκρυά μου στὴ σιγὴ
κατρακυλοῦν παντοτεινά.
