Tróiades

But what limbs does the cliff face leave us?
 Bones unpieced
 undid themselves in the fall
 his body’s illustrious marks
 the face the features of a noble father
 everything the thud on the deep 
earth confused 
in the tumble his neck snapped 
his open head exhaled
 his brain 
 a body
 lying there
 shapeless 
In this too
 just like his father [S 1110]

In this service as herald it would be better 
to be a man without compassion 
more used to shamelessness 
unlike me The closeness of death
 fells the best words [T 786. S 575]

Child, it is not one and the same, seeing and living 
 In one nothing
 in the other at least hope [T 630]

Shaking shaking 
legs Spread this trail of blood
 to the grim 
last days of life [T 1330]

At least I saved you the trouble 
of crossing the scamander’s flow 
washed the corpse 
cleaned the wounds 

Now let me dig his grave 
and it’s over for us 
job done 
catch the boat home soon [T 1155]

Get up you wretch 
lift your head 
your neck off the ground 
There’s no more kingdom or queen 
Do not try gybing your bows 
against the luck of the waves [T 98]

No law spares the conquered 
or overrules his punishment

 and now you say it’d be inauspicious
 to sacrifice the virgins? [S 333, 331]

When they invaded our shores
 they died without missing
 the earth and hearth of the fatherland Whoever war annihilated
 never saw his children never received last rites and now lies exposed on foreign land feeding birds of prey The great strategist
 for what he hates most 
kills what he loves most At home woe doesn't change
 for those who stay
 Wife without husband
 orphaned of her son 
at home 
gave birth for nothing 
In the grave no one
 to sacrifice their blood for this land [T 370]

He died he did
 and better off 
than me alive 

Bloody luck

 Death’s always first
 to give up on buggers like me [S 954]

He robbed me of evil’s greatest fruit 
fearing nothing 
all this took away my joy 
and the horror still has a way in

 The worst is the fear
 with nothing to hope for [S 420]

Why bother calling the gods 
if they never listen? 
Let’s run under the snipers
 today the most beautiful thing
 is dying in a napalmed country
 The blacked-out sun in the smog 
and no flame can singe 
 victory’s thieving fingers 

 Hobble on your stumps
 salute your barrel-bombed city 
as best you can [T 1280, 1275. S 17]

All tears of grief will be my grief [S 1060]

An angel 
looks and tries to get away from it 
plundered openmouthed 
and wide-winged 

he faces the past our chain of events
 like an unfinished catastrophe
 ruin after ruin 
at his feet

 He’d rather land
 remember the dead 
reassemble the fragments 
but from heaven there is 
a gale blowing 
that binds his wings
 and he can no longer close them
 dragged towards the future
 dragged backwards
 and staring at the heap of ruins 
he reaches heaven [W 9]

There is no trench for these tears [S 812]

Never being born is like death 
Before the afflictions of life
 better to die 
without pain 
or the aesthetics of evil

 Happy be he who dies in war
 and sees everything with him
 consume itself [T 636]

Better to have more voice in our arms hands hair feet so that in unison every thing grabs hold of your knees spilling all speech [H 835]

Bury the body 
in a tomb
 for he has won 
his funeral garlands 

For the dead I think 
it doesn’t matter much 
if he received funeral rites

 It’s all vanity of vanities 
ostentation for the living [T 1245]

These ones think death makes up for the ships’ delay Those are glad to see an enemy fall The fickle majority detests all crime and looks on [S 1126]

Mother of an empty city 
teardrop by teardrop 
the dead however forget their pain [T 603]

They can threaten us with flame wounds arts of torture hunger thirst diverse plagues iron plunged into the burnt guts whips lightless prison and whatever else the victor dares in his dreadful fury [S 582]

The man who piles up cities
 ships tombs shrines for the dead 
all abandoned 
and in the end buries himself too [T 95]

Our gift to you 

ripping our hair out
 beating our breasts 

that’s left over [T 792]

Wandering over the sea lacerated his skin [H 782]

I don't take with me what men bring hope I don’t kid myself we’re doing good It would be sweet to believe [T 681]

Behold the child killed 
out of fear one day 
by the Argives [T 1190]