Ulysses Before The Gates Of Hades

Old friends of mine,

My comrades in arms -

It grieves my heart that thy

Once shining faces have turned grey...

There is no life in your eyes,

The darkness of despair

Clouds thy brows;

Why does your voice,

Once resounding like a clarion

On the bloody fields of Troy,

Now is husked to a whisper?

How long have you wandered

Through the desolate paths

That run beside the banks of Styx?

Can't you remember the children that miss you,

The Wife that still awaits your return?

Have you no kin that mourns for thee?

But I my friends,

Am most unhappy of you all -

Living in exile, my prison is made of waves;