The Greek Poets: Homer to the Present, Constantine, et al, eds. (Norton, 2010)


When I heard you were dead, Heraclitus,
tears came, and I remembered how often
you and I had talked the sun to bed.
Long ago you turned to ashes, my Halicarnassian friend,
but your poems, your Nightingales, still live.
Hades clutches all things yet can’t touch these.

(third century BCE; translated by Edmund Keeley)