Tristia 3.8

Eugène Delacroix: Ovid among the Scythians (1859)

ut tetigi Pontum, uexant insomnia, uixque
ossa tegit macies nec iuuat ora cibus

Since I arrived
in Otherworld

I can’t sleep

I’ve starved myself
until my skin’s

like parchment
flaking off

like autumn leaves
my mind’s the same

it all comes down
to one defect

the wrong address

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