Truly Upon Mortals Cometh Swift Of Foot

For By The Will Of The Gods Fate Hath Held Sway Since Ancient Days.

For This Our Task Hath Fate Spun Without Fail To Last For Ever Sure, That We On Man Weighed Down With Deeds Of Hate Should Follow Till The Earth His Life Immure. Nor When He Dies Can He Boast Of Being Truly Free.

When A Tongue Fails To Send Forth Appropriate Shafts, There Might Be A Word To Act As Healer Of These.

The One Knowing What Is Profitable, And Not The Man Knowing Many Things, Is Wise.

For In The Voyage Of The Heart, There Is A Freight Of Hatred, And The Wind Of Wrath Blows Shrill.