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Athenian Epitaphs Ii

Athenian Epitaphs II

These are ancient Greek epitaphs for lost family and friends, including dogs and other animals ...

Now his voice is prisoned in the silent pathways of the night: 
his owner's faithful Maltese... 
but will he still bark again, on sight? 
—Michael R. Burch, after Tymnes

Poor partridge, poor partridge, lately migrated from the rocks; 
our cat bit off your unlucky head; my offended heart still balks! 
I put you back together again and buried you, so unsightly! 
May the dark earth cover you heavily: heavily, not lightly...
so she shan't get at you again! 
—Michael R. Burch, after Agathias

Dead as you are, though you lie still as stone, 
huntress Lycas, my great Thessalonian hound, 
the wild beasts still fear your white bones; 
craggy Pelion remembers your valor, 
splendid Ossa, the way you would bound
and bay at the moon for its whiteness, 
bellowing as below we heard valleys resound.
And how brightly with joy you would canter and run
the strange lonely peaks of high Cithaeron! 
—Michael R. Burch, after Simonides

Wert thou, O Artemis,
overbusy with thy beast-slaying hounds
when the Beast embraced me?
—Michael R. Burch, after Diodorus of Sardis

Cloud-capped Geraneia, cruel mountain! 
If only you had looked no further than Ister and Scythian
Tanais, had not aided the surge of the Scironian
sea's wild-spurting fountain
filling the dark ravines of snowy Meluriad! 
But now he is dead: 
a chill corpse in a chillier ocean—moon led—
and only an empty tomb now speaks of the long, windy voyage ahead. 
—Michael R. Burch, after Simonides

The light of a single morning
exterminated the sacred offspring of Lysidice.
Nor do the angels sing.
Nor do we seek the gods' advice.
This is the grave of Nicander's lost children.
We weep at its bitter price.
—Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

Pluto, delighting in tears, 
why did you bring our son, Ariston, 
to the laughterless abyss of death? 
Why—why? —did the gods grant him breath, 
if only for seven years? 
—Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

Although I had to leave the sweet sun, 
only nineteen—Diogenes, hail! —
beneath the earth, let's have the more fun: 
till human desire seems weak and pale.
—Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

My friend found me here, 
a shipwrecked corpse on the beach. 
He heaped these strange boulders above me.
Oh, how he would wail
that he "loved" me, 
with many bright tears for his own calamitous life! 
Now he sleeps with my wife
and flits like a gull in a gale
—beyond reach—
while my broken bones bleach.
—Michael R. Burch, after Callimachus

Passing by, passing by my oft-bewailed pillar, 
shudder, my new friend to hear my tragic story: 
of how my pyre was lit by the same fiery torch
meant to lead the procession to my nuptials in glory! 
O Hymenaeus, why did you did change
my bridal song to a dirge? Strange! 
—Michael R. Burch, after Erinna

Suddenly this grave
holds our nightingale speechless; 
now she lies here like a stone, 
who once was so accomplished
while sunlight illumining dust 
proves the gods all reachless, 
as our prayers prove them also
unhearing or beseechless.
—Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

I, Homenea, the chattering bright sparrow, 
lie here in the hollow of a great affliction, 
leaving tears to Atimetus 
and all scattered—that great affection. 
—Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

A mother only as far as the birth pangs, 
my life cut short at the height of life's play: 
only eighteen years old, so brief was my day. 
—Michael R. Burch, after an unknown Greek poet

We mourn Polyanthus, whose wife
placed him newly-wedded in an unmarked grave, 
having received his luckless corpse
back from the green Aegean wave
that deposited his fleshless skeleton
gruesomely in the harbor of Torone. 
—Michael R. Burch, after Phaedimus

Here Saon, son of Dicon, now rests in holy sleep: 
say not that the good die, friend, lest gods and mortals weep.
—Michael R. Burch, after Callimachus



Anacreon Epigrams

Yes, bring me Homer's lyre, no doubt, 
but first yank the bloodstained strings out! 
—Anacreon, translation by Michael R. Burch

Here we find Anacreon, 
an elderly lover of boys and wine.
His harp still sings in lonely Acheron
as he thinks of the lads he left behind...
—Anacreon or the Anacreontea, translation by Michael R. Burch



Plato Epigrams

Mariner, do not ask whose tomb this may be, 
But go with good fortune: I wish you a kinder sea.
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

We left the thunderous Aegean
to sleep peacefully here on the plains of Ecbatan.
Farewell, renowned Eretria, our homeland! 
Farewell, Athens, Euboea's neighbor! 
Farewell, dear Sea! 
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

This poet was pleasing to foreigners
and even more delightful to his countrymen: 
Pindar, beloved of the melodious Muses.
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

Some say the Muses are nine.
Foolish critics, count again! 
Sappho of Lesbos makes ten.
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

Even as you once shone, the Star of Morning, above our heads, 
even so you now shine, the Star of Evening, eclipsing the dead.
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

Why do you gaze up at the stars? 
Oh, my Star, that I were Heaven, 
to gaze at you with many eyes! 
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

Every heart sings an incomplete song, 
until another heart sings along.
Those who would love long to join in the chorus.
At a lover's touch, everyone becomes a poet.
—Michael R. Burch, after Plato

The Apple
ascribed to Plato
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Here's an apple; if you're able to love me, 
catch it and chuck me your cherry in exchange.
But if you hesitate, as I hope you won't, 
take the apple, examine it carefully, 
and consider how briefly its beauty will last.

Keywords/Tags: epitaph, epitaphs, epigram, epigrams, eulogy, grave, funeral, ancient Greek, translation, dog, best friend, death of a friend, dogs, hound, animals, beasts, Anacreon, Plato, Simonides, Agathias, Tymnes, Diodorus, Artemis

Copyright © Michael Burch | Year Posted 2020

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