Heart forsaken, courage subdued,

The wanderer treks over

Vast antres of desert —

Unbearably hot by day,

Brutally cold by night

There is no sanctuary here.

The sand and winds are relentless;

And yet the wanderer's eyes

Search for a lang from whence

They were (rightly) scorned, cast out

For heartless actions towards

A gracious ruler.

There can be no sanctuary there, either.

Diverged destinies prevent his return

To any land even slightly more

Hospitable than the barren desert.

Not even the gods shall pity them now,

For their wrongdoing marred sacred peace treaties

In the land which the wanderer left.

There is no sanctuary in prayer or sacrifice to the gods.

(Not even a self-sacrifice would appease them)

Not even death shall bring

This cursed soul sanctuary;

For Hades himself is bound to send

This wanderer to the Fields of Punishment;

While the queen they wronged is destined

To reside in Elysium, for her kind soul and good deeds.

She shall keep Persephone company

And even bring joy to the realm of the dead,

While the wanderer shall suffer eternally

For breaking her precious heart