Goddess Of Song, Teach Me

No Season Now For Calm, Familiar Talk.

Men Grow Tired Of Sleep, Love, Singing And Dancing Sooner Than Of War.

By Their Own Follies They Perished, The Fools.

Restrain Yourself... And Gloat In Silence. I'll Have No Jubilation Here. It Is An Impious Thing To Exult Over The Slain.

Whenever A Man Is Tired, Wine Is A Great Restorer Of Strength.