Over The Wine-dark Sea.

Words Empty As The Wind Are Best Left Unsaid.

Hateful To Me As Are The Gates Of Hell, Is He Who, Hiding One Thing In His Heart, Utters Another.

All The Survivors Of The War Had Reached Their Homes And So Put The Perils Of Battle And The Sea Behind Them.

Once Harm Has Been Done, Even A Fool Understands It.

I Long For Home, Long For The Sight Of Home.