Here rests Timocritus, valiant in war; Ares spares cowards, not heroes.

Eros shook my soul like the wind attacking trees on a mountain. [translated by Peter Saint-Andre]

Deathless Aphrodite on your lavish throne, Enchantress, daughter of Zeus: I beg you, queen, Do not overpower my soul with heartaches and hard troubles, But come here, if ever at another time Having heard my voice you paid me attention And leaving the golden house of your father you came to me, Yoking your horse [...]

I love and yet I do not love I am crazy and I am not crazy

I am a servant of my Lord Ares, but I also know well the lovely gift of the Muses

Come here to me from Crete, to your holy temple, Where your lovely grove of apple stands, Where the altars smoke with frankincense; Here cold water sounds through apple branches, The ground is all carpeted with roses, Enchanted sleep falls from shimmering leaves; Here the horse-grazed field Is lush with spring flowers And the winds [...]

The gleaming stars all about the shining moon Hide their bright faces, when full-orbed and splendid In the sky she floats, flooding the shadowed earth with clear silver light.

Far from my land, Italy, I stay, from my home-town, Tarentum. That is more bitter than death, the wanderer’s vain life. But the Muses have loved me and in return of my suffering have given me honey sweetness. Leonidas’ name is not dead. The Muses’ gifts hand it down forever.

He seems to me, that one, equal to the gods, The man fixed there, who sits opposite you And hears close by your sweet voice And delightful laugh, which once Shook the soul in my breast. For as I look on you, My voice yields no sound, Gasping, my silent tongue shivers, A thin fire [...]

Infinite, O man, was the time until you came to light, and infinite is what remains after death: what share is left for life but the bigness of a dot, and tinier than a dot if such there be? Little is your life and afflicted; for not even so it is sweet, but more loathed [...]