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“What good is life when golden love is gone? Frankly, I would rather be dead than ignore a girl's warm surrender, her soft arms in bed at night, the lovely flower of youth that all women and men desire! When old age comes a man feels feeble and ugly and crawls under a crushing sorrow. He loses the simple joy of looking at the sun. Children despise him. He is repulsive to young women—in this sad blind alley which God has made of old age.” — Mimnermos
What good is life when golden love is gone?
Frankly, I would rather be dead than ignore
a girl's warm surrender, her soft arms in bed
at night, the lovely flower of youth that all women
and men desire!
When old age comes
a man feels feeble and ugly and crawls under
a crushing sorrow.
He loses the simple joy
of looking at the sun.
Children despise him.
He is repulsive to young women—in this sad
blind alley which God has made of old age.