—Aeneid, Book 6

Don’t be afraid—I can still portray

What we resemble now.

You are a ghost—or a man passing through,

And for some reason I cherish your shade.

For a while you were my Aeneas—

It was then I escaped by fire.

We know how to keep quiet about one another.

And you forgot my cursed house.

You forgot those hands stretched out to you

In horror and torment, through flame,

And the report of blasted dreams.

You don’t know for what you were forgiven …

Rome was created, flocks of flotillas sail on the sea,

And adulation sings the praises of victory.