O troubled Isle of Aphrodite
So battered by hostile winds
that vie with one another
When will this storm abate?
O thou, my father's land
Thy very heart so torn and so in pain
A castaway from thy native land
thy core is rent in twain
Strewn across thy verdant carpet
Soldiers have trampled thou like mire in the streets
O Cyprus, the lovely isle of fruitful vine
When will you breathe again?
Ode to Cyprus, by Sofia Kioroglou
