I know you have entered into sorrow.
Yet you bring no aid to the dead.
Oh me! Oh me!
Heavy shall it be for you
Never to look again
On the face of the woman you love.
You bring to my mind the grief that breaks my heart. What sorrow
is worse for a man than the loss of such a woman? I would I had
never married, never shared my house with her. I envy the wifeless and
the childless. They live but one life-what is suffering to them? But
the sickness of children, bridal-beds ravished by Death-dreadful! when
we might be wifeless and childless to the end.
Chance, dreadful Chance, has stricken you.
But you set no limit to your grief.
A heavy burden to bear, and yet...
Courage! You are not the first to lose...
Oh me! Oh me!
Fate crushes with different blows.
O long grief and mourning for those beloved under the earth!
Why did you stay me from casting myself into the hollow grave to
lie down for ever in death by the best of women? Two lives, not one,
had then been seized by Hades, most faithful one to the other; and
together we should have crossed the lake of the Underworld.
A son most worthy of tears
Was lost to one of my house,
Yet, childless, he suffered with courage,
Though the white was thick in his hair
And his days were far-spent!
O visage of my house! How shall I enter you? How shall I dwell
in you, now that Fate has turned its face from me? How great is the
change! Once, of old, I entered my house with marriage-songs and the
torches of Pelion, holding a loved woman by the hand, followed by a
merry crowd shouting good wishes to her who is dead and to me, because
we had joined our lives, being both noble and born of noble lines.
Today, in place of marriage-songs are lamentations; instead of white
garments I am clad in mourning, to return to my house and a solitary
Grief has fallen upon you
In the midst of a happy life
Untouched by misfortune.