Last epitaph

Beneath the black leaves of the laurel,

beneath the amorous blooms of the roses,

it is here that I lay,

I who could weave verses together,

and make kisses bloom.

I was born in the land of the nymphs;

I was experienced on the isle of lovers;

I died on the island of Kypris.

This is why my name is distinguished

and my column (stele) rubbed with oil.

Do not weep for me, you who have stopped here:

they made my funeral beautiful:

the mourners scratched their cheeks;

they laid my mirrors and necklaces in my tomb.

And now, on the pale prairies of asphodel,

I walk, an impalpable shadow,

and the memory of my earthly life

is the joy of my underworld existence.