The dark fields do not give fruit
continuously, nor are trees
accustomed to bear an equal wealth
of fragrant flowers in every
circling year, but in alternation.
And thus the race of mortal men
is led by Fate. No clear sign arrives
to mortal men from Zeus. Yet we embark
on bold endeavors, long for many deeds,
our limbs are bound by shameless hope,
while the streams of foresight
lie far away. But we must hunt
for due measure in our love of gain.
The madness of unattainable desires
is too sharp.