Monday, January 10
A POEM TORN IN HALF
the surrounding smoke they made[ in warships, spear-shafts d[ men are tearing, and he wilts[ in the sunlight, courage and[ great longing for[ of Naxians able to f[ of trees cut sharp down[ men hold back[ this would for all soldiers m[ as in the past without anger[ and of brothers[ of whom they cut off[ beat down beneath plague-like blows[ these things in my soul, my thinking heart[ abysmal deep[ but all the same dead[ knows now, if you[ of words who is destined[ some men in Thasos[ and Torone[ some men in swift ships[ and from Paros t[ and of the same mother born[ soul, heart, but[ fire now all around[ in the suburbs k[ they ever-scorch the earth[ violent men overrun[ readying for the road[ nothing lucky, nothing on the right[ (Archilochus, translated from Greek by Dan Beachy-Quick)