Why the World Cup will always be bitter-sweet for me.
Beautifully put.
Cory's adaptation of the Callimachus elegy welled up from the depths of my memory:
“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 grey 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.”
Beautifully written piece. 💕
🫂💙🫂
Beautifully put.
Cory's adaptation of the Callimachus elegy welled up from the depths of my memory:
“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 grey 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.”
Beautifully written piece. 💕
🫂💙🫂