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He found no food on all of the sacred earth,
nor anything which laboring men enjoy,
except when he could limit his hunger
710with arrows shot from his swift-striking bow.
How black his life was,
he who never for ten long years
rejoiced in the taste of wine,
but searched to find a place where he
715might but drink of stagnant water.
The women of Trachis and Philoctetes. A new translation in verse by Robert Torrance. Houghton Mifflin. 1966.
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