A Great Ox Stands On My Tongue.

Honor Modesty More Than Your Life.

But When The Dust Has Drunk The Blood Of Men, No Resurrection Comes For One Who's Dead.

And Though All Streams Flow From A Single Course To Cleanse The Blood From Polluted Hand, They Hasten On Their Course In Vain.

Old Men, What Are They? Fast Fading The Leaf, Three-footed They Walk, Yet Frail As A Child, As A Dream Set Afloat In The Daylight.

The Air Is Zeus, Zeus Earth, And Zeus The Heaven, Zeus All That Is, And What Transcends Them All.