A windswept plain in morning light
Beneath the heights of ancient slopes
The golden rays that drowned the night
Renew again these broken hopes.
From this deep valley I have seen
Grey castles on a steep terrain
Old Mystras still sits so pristine
So high above the Spartan plain.
Her rocky slopes tell the story
Of the blood that washed her castle walls
Through battles won, she earned her glory
To wounded cries and trumpet calls.
The brilliant silver armour gleamed
As armies rushed her citadel
Her gallant knights against them streamed
With bravery, the castle held.
The years have passed like the hot breeze
That still swirls o'er her ruined walls
Fair jewel of the Peloponnese
You've earned a place in valour's halls.
