To a lady

In that happy time when my young innocence

Received the child who is master of the gods,

You, knowing that he had just been born,

Rightly wanted to nourish him on hope.

But because you and his perseverance

Made him grow more than anyone could otherwise,

Instead of feeding him on hope you let him feast

On my pain and suffering alone.

By no attempt or effort that I make

Can I oust him from his home,

Because he has become stronger than I am.

In spite of myself, then, I must put up with his staying there,

But in spite of him, I have this comfort, too,

That at least when I die he will leave.