He grew old between the fires of Troy
and the quarries of Sicily.
He was fond of caves along the beach
and of the sea’s drawings;
he realised men’s veins are like a net
spread by the gods to trap us like wild beasts
and tried to pierce it.
He was cross-grained, his friends were few;
when it was time, the dogs tore him to pieces.
«Ευριπίδης, Αθηναίος», από το Ημερολόγιο Καταστρώματος Γ' (1955)
From Log Book, III (1955)