Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me, For sacred ev'n to gods is misery.

Miserable mortals who like leaves at one moment flame with life eating the produce of the land and at another moment weakly perish.

Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.

I'm a rageaholic. I just can't live without rageahol.

Do not mourn the dead with the belly.

And for yourself, may the gods grant you your heart's desire, a husband and a home, and the blessing of a harmonious life. For nothing is greater or finer than this, when a man and woman live together with one hear and mind, bringing joy to their friends and grief to their foes.

For afterwards a man finds pleasure in his pains, when he has suffered long and wandered long. So I will tell you what you ask and seek to know.