You seem too calm for a woman bitten
by a viper, dying; sitting on a bank
in a forest glade beside the path,
examining your wound. You have all
the beauty of a nymph, pink flowers
in your hair highlighting rosy cheeks;
naked beneath a simple loose-fitting
shift; pale skin glowing in sunlight. You must
be resigned to your fate, perhaps weary
of the attention of gods and men, loving
only your husband. He played joyful songs
for you; and you danced for him. No matter
what lengths he would go to get you back,
at the end his doubts will defeat him. So face
your future, expect nothing, don’t look back.