Daeon, Hoplite of Ashtan
In the terzanelle form

This cold hard ground is not for me.
The dark is death, my bed a tomb.
My longing for the wine-dark sea
Will not be sated here nor soon,
The Polemarch himself to blame.
The dark is death. My bed a tomb
In Rheodad to whence we came.
His vengeance for Carina's loss,
The Polemarch himself to blame.
The Sapphire Sea we sailed across,
The jaguar staff he broke in twain,
His vengeance for Carina's loss.
To Ashtan, never more again.
We sail no more upon the waves.
The jaguar staff he broke in twain
And holds its half within his grave.
This cold hard ground is not for me,
We sail no more upon the waves
And longing for the wine-dark sea.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Phaestian, in the year 854 AF.