All I have now is bones

All I have now is bones, I look like a skeleton,

de-fleshed, de-nerved, de-muscled, deprived of pulp,

struck down by the unforgiving arrow of death.

I dare not look at my arms lest I shake with fear.

Apollo and Asclepius, two master-physicians combined,

could not cure me now; their profession has let me down.

Farewell, pleasant sun; my eyes are blocked up.

My body is descending to where all comes apart.

What friend who sees me stripped to this extent

does not head home with sad and tearful eyes,

after consoling me in bed, kissing my face,

and wiping my eyes which death has put to sleep?

Farewell, dear companions, farewell, dear friends;

I'm setting off first to prepare a place for you.