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Though heart's hurt exhausts me always now, and I cannot enjoy the of those learned girls, the Muses, or sweetly bring to birth a verse--
Terrible things have happened, my mind
Hovers, incapable, in shock.
My brother just crossed the river Lethe,
that coldest streams of all's washed his pale feet. Yanked out of sight- engulfed by earth,
Trojan soil heaped heavy over him on the shore of Rhoetum..
Brother, I love you more than life, I'll never see you now.
Always I'll love you,
Always sing sadder because of your death,
Song like those the Nightingale songs,
Perched in thickest treeshade,
Weeping her lost love.
Even though I grieve, Ortalus, I send you these poems of Callimachus,
Wrung from the Greek into Latin for you,
lest you think your wishes have vanished from my mind like words into the wind, forgotten
Like that apple(a lover's secret give)
the girl in the story hidbin a soft fold of clothing
when her mother came in she stood up,
it fell, shot headlong across the floor
While a guilty blush overspread her sad face.