November 18, 2007 sunday - 02:05

Attica, the heroine, has fallen;
where the ancient sons of gods now rest,
in the ruins of beautiful marble halls
now stands the crane alone and deeply grieving;
with a smile fair Spring returns again,
but yet he never is able to find his brother
there in the holy valley of Ilissus -
under the ruins and thorns they are asleep.

I want to cross over into the far country
to Alcaeus and to Anacreon,
and I would rather sleep in the little house
with the holy saints in Marathon;
Oh! let these be the last of the many tears
that I have shed for my belovèd Greece;
Let, o Fates, now let the shears resound,
for my heart is already with the dead.

tr. Jim Devin & Brian Cole

prefix | suffix

diaryland | archive | newest entry | profile