Opa, It is a word, But more of a sound, The sound of Thrown plates Hitting the ground, The sound of God's cheer At human accomplishment, The sound of Friends together Stealing away the night. Opa is expression, Is happiness in life.
Opa in a name Of an excellent resturaunt Nestled in the land Between dream And reality Where the tastes Of the old Blend with new In the seamless style Of the modern world. Opa brings hope.
Hope is at The doorstep Of my doubtful heart. Hope for redemption In forefather's eyes. That a connection Can be still made To my ancient world; To my own blood, Soul and flesh. That I can Learn to dance In my own skin.
Opa is possibility For my motherland To hold on to life By the slippery reins And keep up With the world, But not lose tradition. There is possibility For me To reclaim herritage; To learn my history; To live proudly Greek