Funeral song

Sing a funeral song, Mytilenian muses, sing!

The earth is dark like a mourning cloak

and the yellow trees tremble like shorn tresses.

Heraios! oh sad and gentle month! the leaves fall,

snow gilded,

the sun is more penetrating

in the forest clearing...

I hear no longer anything but silence.

Here one carried to his tomb Pittakos, down with years.

Many are dead, that I knew.

And she who lives is, to me, like she who is no more.

It is time also for me to disappear

Weep with me, Mytilenian muses, weep!