Who made the world I cannot tell; 'Tis made, and here am I in hell. My hand, though now my knuckles bleed, I never soiled with such a deed.

The rainy Pleiads wester, Orion plunges prone, The stroke of midnight ceases, And I lie down alone.

Here dead we lie because we did not choose To live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; But young men think it i…

Hope lies to mortals And most believe her, But man's deceiver Was never mine.

Os bons vi sempre passar No mundo graves tormentos; E para mais me espantar, Os maus vi sempre nadar Em mar de contentamentos.

Alas, regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of ills to come, Nor care beyond today.

The wild winds had been sown and the whirlwinds were gathering... and I was reaping what I had not sown... None of us could escape the history of the centuries…