Maid of Athens, ere we part by Lord Byron

Maid of Athens, ere we part, 
Give, oh, give back my heart! 
Or, since that has left my breast, 
Keep it now, and take the rest! 
Hear my vow before I go, 
Zoл mou sas agapo. 

By those tresses unconfined, 
Wooed by each Aegean wind; 
By those lids whose jetty fringe 
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; 
By those wild eyes like the roe, 
Zoл mou sas agapo. 

By that lip I long to taste; 
By that zone-encircled waist; 
By all the token-flowers that tell 
What words can never speak so well; 
By love's alternate joy and woe, 
Zoл mou sas agapo. 

Maid of Athens! I am gone: 
Think of me, sweet! when alone. 
Though I fly to Istambol, 
Athens holds my heart and soul: 
Can I cease to love thee? No! 
Zoл mou sas agapo.