THE BATTLE OF MAGNESIA
He’s lost his old ardor, his courage.
His body, nearly ill with fatigue,
will be his only concern now. And the rest
of his life will go by without any worry. This
at least is what Philip contends. Tonight he plays
at dice to amuse himself, loads the table
with roses. What if Antiochos was destroyed
at Magnesia? They say complete carnage
crushed the ranks of his brilliant army. Perhaps
those claims were stretched a bit. Perhaps they are not all true.
Let us hope. Because, although enemies, they belong to our race.
However, one “perhaps” is enough. Maybe too much.
But of course Philip will not postpone the feast.
No matter how great the weariness of his life,
one good thing remains: his memory has not left him.
He remembers how much they mourned in Syria, that charade
of sorrow, when their Mother Macedonia fell to dust.—
Let the feast begin. Servants: the flutes, the lights!.
Libros Libertad 