I will let my body flow like water over the gentle cushions.
I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument.
Death is an ill; 'tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.
Builders, raise the ceiling high, Raise the dome into the sky, Hear the wedding song! For the happy groom is near, Tall as Mars, and statelier, Hear the wedding song!
The Moon and Pleiades have set, / Midnight is nigh, / The time is passing, passing, yet / Alone I lie.
Raise high the roof-beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man.