Zorba Sings

Zorba is singing He dances He drinks wine He sings again Plays on the santoori With his hand on the shoulder of the twilight hour Zorba sings He drinks wine He sings again Inhaling the scent Of the night's breast He drinks Zorba is dancing Smeared all over With the fresh hue of the dawn Zorba drinks He frisks and pranks With the different wines Of the different isles Zorba sings Plays on the santoori Athens is singing Sparta is singing Lesbos is singing Delphi too is singing All the islands Are dancing The Mediterranean Is drinking wine Climbing over the waves The little breeze swims Zorba is singing No colour of virtue No stain of sin Zorba sings Gone are the Turks Gone are the Romans Gone are the Persians Gone are the Germans Who will come next Is not known Whoever comes We shall drive him out We shall keep To the path of truth Crying so, possessed, Zorba sings When it grows dark He plays on the santoori He dances He drinks wine Zorba is singing