By and by, Odysseus finished his exchange
with Father; the dutiful, wicked man Agamemnon, now but a shade.
The lion, with feline finesse, made his way over
to where I stood gazing at generations of dead, used-up heroes.
The master mariner and soldier said:
Daughter of Agamemnon, Iphigenia, how fare you
in this land of wondrous, immortal heroes?
Your valor is known to all Akhaiansthe daughter
who willingly sacrificed herself to the gods,
for a purpose far greater than herself. Fear not;
your name, Iphigenia, lives on.
Stab my heart, first, and then twist the knife further?
Ah, how life is wasted in the idle hands of those who have it!
Foolish men, sweet-talked with lustful whispers of everlasting
fame and glory. Hordes of deceived, naïve boys fight in
wars for a chance at immortality and I,
content with living life alive, die.
To recall the sun-filled, glorious days
when I ran wild in the streets of my fathers kingdom,