We both know he doesn’t love you.
Catching the venom meant for his eye,
silent even though he should cry
out in fury at your meddling.
Even the serpent laughs at you.
I’d think your body was through
even if your heart was still into
an idiot’s errand that no one would rue.
The end of the world, and yet you stay true.
One child dead and the other a wolf,
and unhappily bound to him who
will never come to appreciate you.
Preventer of earthquakes while your pain’s renewed.
It’s a course no other goddess would pursue
and modern women will rightly mock you –
but is this what love can make a person do?