Callimachus

(310/305 BC / Cyrene, Ancient Libya)

Heraclitus - Poem by Callimachus

They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,
They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.
I wept as I remembered how often you and I
Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.

And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,
A handful of gray ashes, long, long ago at rest,
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;
For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.

Topic(s) of this poem: death


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 14, 2016



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