Poem by Xenophanes
In winter, sprawled on soft cushions,
replete and warm, munching on chick-peas
and drinking sweet wine by the fire…
that is the time to ask each other:
As if to Odysseus:
'Who, from where, and why, art thou?'
- Or with a wink:
'And how many years are on your back, Bold-Heart?'
'Had you yet reached man's estate, when the Persians came?'
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