Adapted from Simias, The Greek Anthology, vii, 21 and 22
Just as the ivy twines
over this tombstone gracefully,
and just as roses bloom here,
snowing their petals pink
across your graven name,
and just as the grape,
from the adjacent arbor
sends out its grasping tendrils,
just so did word and phrase
bloom out in perfect diction
from your tongue and pen,
Great Sophocles, the favorite
of actors and auditors.
over this tombstone gracefully,
and just as roses bloom here,
snowing their petals pink
across your graven name,
and just as the grape,
from the adjacent arbor
sends out its grasping tendrils,
just so did word and phrase
bloom out in perfect diction
from your tongue and pen,
Great Sophocles, the favorite
of actors and auditors.
One tomb, and so little
earth -- so small a stage
they have afforded you
dead, the tragic Muse's
Attic north-star --
clings to a clod of soil.
Sing on, immortal voice
with words so strong
they burn the soul.
