For sufferers it is sweet to know before-hand clearly the pain that still remains for them.
Chorus: Zeus, who guided men to think who laid it down that wisdom comes alone through suffering. Still there drips in sleep against the heart grief of memory; against our pleasure we are temperate.
Black smoke, the flickering sister of fire.
Self-will in the man who does not reckon wisely is by itself the weakest of all things.
Fear hurries on my tongue through want of courage.
You have been trapped in the inescapable net of ruin by your own want of sense.