- Ὡς δυστυχὴς ἔγωγε, καινὸς Ἰξίων,
- ἐρῶν Ἀθηνῶν, ὡς ἐκεῖνος τῆς Ἥρας,
- εἶτα λαθὼν εἴδωλον ἠγκαλισμένος.
- Φεῦ! οἷα πάσχω καὶ λέγω τε καὶ γράφω.
- Οἰκῶν Ἀθήνας οὐκ Ἀθήνας που βλέπω,
- κόνιν δὲ λυπρὰν καὶ κενὴν μακαρίαν.
Thus am I ill-starred, a new Ixion,
a lover of Athens as that one of Hera,
having missed her, embracing an image.
Ah, such things I endure and speak and write!
Dwelling at Athens, it’s not Athens that I see anywhere,
but agonizing dust and empty bliss.
One wonders what this says of the fruit of his love.