Poem: Heroic Quatrains

 

In his martial rage, the high point and essence of his existence, is like a lion, a wild boar, a storm, a river in a flood, a raging forest fire, a bright star from a dark cloud; his armour blazes like the sun, his eyes flash fire, his breast is filled with irresistible fury, his limbs are light and active. He mows down opponents like a reaper in a cornfield, like a wind scattering the foam of the sea, like a great dolphin swallowing little fishes … When a hero dies, dark night covers him, he is seized by hateful darkness; he is robbed of his sweet life, his soul rushes forth from the wound; it goes down to Hades bewailing its fate, leaving behind its youth and strength. The doom of death covers his eyes and nostrils, he breathes out his life in the dust, hateful fate swallows him up, he gluts the god of war with his blood. [Jasper Griffin, Homer on Life and Death (Clarendon: 1980), 90]

1
A lion in his martial rage
a boar, a river running loud,
a storm, a raging forest blaze,
a white star in a blood-dark cloud:

his armour blazes like the sun,
his eyes flash fire, his breast is filled
with irresistible fury and
his limbs are active. He has killed.

2
You’re covered by the night, you’re seized
by hateful darkness, you are rushed
below, you loose your limbs and knees
your gaping mouth bites only dust

down to hades fate-bewailing
leaving youth and strength behind
lightless eyes eyes cloud inveiling
as blind as death as dead is blind

you glut the god of war with blood
your blood your blood yours in his maw
your strength ebbs outward as a flood
for this is war is war is war