Although only breath, words which I command are immortal.
Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear.
Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.
The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars
In gold sandals / dawn like a thief / fell upon me.
Death is an ill; 'tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.