Immer Wieder Sonntags

Every Sunday they came over,
Our musicians from Athens.
Every Sunday they were dear to us
And only we two can understand that.
Every Sunday again the memory comes,
I hear the bouzouki playing.
Just like in the Sunday night,
When luck brought us home.
Every Sunday again the memory comes
And there are the same songs,
That we heard in the Sunday night,
When you brought me happiness.
Every Sunday night was full of songs,
With the musicians from Athens.
And soon we will go dancing again,
To the musicians.
Every Sunday again the memory comes
I hear the bouzouki playing.
Every Sunday again the memory comes
And there are the same songs,
Every Sunday again the memory comes
I hear the bouzouki playing.
Every Sunday again the memory comes
And there are the same songs,
Every Sunday again.