Ruin, eldest daughter of Zeus, she blinds us all, that fatal madness—she with those delicate feet of hers, never touching the earth, gliding over the heads of men to trap us all. She entangles one man, now another.
The fates have given mankind a patient soul.
Not vain the weakest, if their force unite.
Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.
Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.
Sing, O muse, of the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans.